


All For One, And One For Love

by fleckphantasma



Series: Iron Hearts [1]
Category: The Man in the Iron Mask (1998)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Betrayal, F/M, Family, Kidnapping, Romance, Treason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 121,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleckphantasma/pseuds/fleckphantasma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their plan to replace Louis with Philippe is foiled, the musketeers must regroup and find a way to save an innocent man from an undeserved fate. But now they have been found out by both Louis and D'Artagnan, and another person is soon to be added to the mix. Danger, discovery and family all play a key role in what happens from this point on, especially when she gets involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

> **Hey everyone! This is a story that I've been sitting on for quite some time now, and after being directed to AO3 by a friend, I wanted to post it here for some more exposure. It is currently posted on Fanfiction.net where it has been met with great reviews by others, but I'd really like to branch out and see what more people have to say. I remembered watching this movie when I was younger, and after finding it again I was rather unsatisfied with the ending, because I'm such a huge fan of D'Artagnan from the book and everything, so I opted to write something different. Some people might not appreciate it, and that's fine, but that's the wonderful thing about things like these, right? So feel free to leave me reviews (actually I'd really love those) and let me know what you think. Flamers and nasty people will not be tolerated.**
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter I**
> 
> "I'm coming with you."
> 
> Aramis couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, a groan of frustration sounding in his throat. The dangers that he was headed for were sure to bring about his death now that their plans of replacing Louis with Phillipe had failed so miserably. France was still in a dangerous place because of their king, and they themselves were now being hunted down by the musketeers for their efforts to restore peace and order to the country they loved so dearly. He had returned to his room only for a few things before he was to meet Athos and Porthos in their meeting room beneath the monastery, the only safe place that remained for them. And in doing so, he had encountered the very person he had hoped to avoid because he knew that she would not willingly allow him to leave again without her presence. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, praying that God would forgive the lie as he shuffled through a drawer with his back still turned to the speaker.
> 
> "Do not lie to me, Papa. You may still look on me as a child, but you know well that I'm twenty, a woman," came the voice again, a little firmer this time. "And you know as well as I that I will be of use to you tonight where ever you go. Do you not think that the King has already sent people here to look for you?"
> 
> He turned rather sharply to look at her, finding that the distance between them was not as great as he had originally thought. Out of instinct, his hand reached out to gently touch her cheek. "You were not hurt?"
> 
> The young woman shook her head, her loose curls moving gently around her face. "No, they did not harm me. I told them that I did not know anything of where you were, and that was the truth."
> 
> He took only a moment to look over her before he turned back again, rummaging through another drawer all together. They had been saved for this exact moment, he thought to himself hurriedly as he threw things all over the room in an effort to locate them faster. So where on earth had he put them? Of all the things he could have possibly misplaced over the years since he had retired from the musketeers, why couldn't it have been something of less importance that he had lost?
> 
> "I moved them, Papa."
> 
> Again Aramis spun around to look at her, his eyes a little wide in confusion. "I don't know what made me do it, but I moved them down to the crypt just before the King's men arrived. I knew I could not let them find them."
> 
> The apologetic look on her face was quickly replaced with a look of surprise when the older man moved forward, gently kissing the top of her head with a bright grin of his own. "Clever girl," he praised softly.
> 
> This must have been some heavenly sign, for her to have moved them so discreetly in the moment when he knew they would most be needed. And perhaps it was also a sign for something more. Katherine might not have been a daughter of his own making, but when the young girl had been left as a babe on the steps of monastery, Aramis suddenly found himself unable to turn her away and leave her in a place where others like her would be taken. At one point, he had simply dismissed it as a weaker moment in his life where he had longed to have some kind of family of his own after his years of service to the musketeers. But as time had passed, the old man came to realize that there was another reason entirely for his keeping Katherine and raising her, although he had been a little saddened to learn that she had not wanted to become a nun and follow the same path that he had chosen for himself. Still, as he looked at the young woman before him, he knew what needed to be done.
> 
> "You may come with me, but we must leave now before they decide to return and look again."
> 
> He knew that she didn't understand what was going on. He had been careful to make sure that she was not initially included in their plans, for fear of what might happen to her if they were to be caught. To bring about his own death was one thing, but to potentially bring harm to the thing he loved most dearly in this world was something that he could not allow. And yet as soon as he saw the look on her face, he knew that she had been planning something for a while now, meaning that she was perhaps the best prepared for the four of them. "Come, we must hurry."
> 
> Taking ahold of her hand, Aramis quickly looked both ways down the corridor before he started to move, their footsteps soft against the stone floors. Clearly Katherine had thought to remove her shoes before she had come to see him, which was good for it would make their escape into the crypt much swifter that night. And indeed, it took them only a short while to descend the stairs and head for the secret passage way, where they were greeted by one of his Jesuit order. Katherine was initially startled by the hooded man who stepped from the shadows at them and placed herself behind Aramis, who only waved the man away before moving on. There was much to explain to the poor girl, he knew, but now was not the time.
> 
> He turned them quickly into the room and bolted the door shut, pulling her along with him. "Papa, when are you going to tell me what...Uncle Athos!"
> 
> Momentarily distracted by the presence of two others, Katherine let her thought drop as she hurried forward and into the open arms of yet another man, who hugged her tightly against him. Athos had found the girl to be quite the comfort to him after the death of his son, helping to fill a void he never thought could heal. It had been a combination of her and Phillipe that had made him feel almost like the man he had been when Raoul was still in his life, and while he was initially rather startled to see her with Aramis that night, he couldn't help but feel slightly comforted by her presence there when he knew that they were riding into certain doom. Still, he had to wonder why it was that she had been brought down there, especially when Aramis was all too aware of the number of soldiers and musketeers that were after their heads right now.
> 
> "Are you alright?" she asked him, pulling back to look between him and Porthos with anxious eyes. "What's going on?"
> 
> "Katherine," came the soft voice of Aramis. "I'm afraid there is much that I need to tell you, but I do not have the time that I wish I did. A young man's life currently hangs in the balance right now, and we need to find a way to get him out of the Bastille."
> 
> The Bastille? The name of the heavily fortified prison rang in her ears as she looked up at Athos, his face almost unmoving. She couldn't possibly have heard him correctly. The very idea of attempting to break into the Bastille and rescue one of its prisoners was absolutely absurd, not to mention incredibly dangerous for everyone involved. Her lips parted to ask him yet again what it was that he was hiding from her, but as she turned back in his direction she saw that his gaze was otherwise taken with a dagger that had been lodged into the back of the door, along with a few pieces of paper.
> 
> "D'Artagnan," he muttered quietly, moving them all and offering the first note to Porthos.
> 
> "It's a trap," declared Athos with a heavy sigh, "but we must go. We cannot leave Philippe to rot in that prison any longer."
> 
> Porthos nodded his head in agreement. "Then to the Bastille we shall go."
> 
> Each step that Aramis took to cross before them sounded with a soft scrape, his boots against the loose stone flooring of the crypt. "Katherine, if you please."
> 
> The girl straightened a little as she too crossed before them, moving to the opposite side of the room and the secret hiding place she had chosen in which to lay their old uniforms, black from the days of the old king. She reached out to brush the dust from them, fingering the insignia of the musketeers gently before she caught herself and instead hurried back over toward the three men.
> 
> "I thought to save them so that we could wear them in one last battle before we died. And so we shall." At Aramis' words, Katherine stopped short of handing him his uniform.
> 
> "Died?" she whispered, fear laced in her voice. "Papa..."
> 
> Despite his age, Aramis moved toward the girl with a gentle ease, helping to lower her lightly to the bench at the table before he knelt down beside her. That seemed to be the hard part, she noted, as his face contorted into a slight look of discomfort. His age really was beginning to creep up on him after so many years of active duty.
> 
> "Kate," he began, using the pet name that they had adopted over the years. "The young man who we wish to rescue from the Bastille is the King's twin brother." Katherine gasped, a hand covering her mouth. "Louis shut Philippe away after he learned the truth from his father, thinking that Philippe knew who he was and would come to take his crown away. And with all of the pain that Louis has caused his people, we tried to replace him with Philippe to save France from entering a war with itself."
> 
> The girl sat there in stunned silence, looking between the three men who now gathered around her without remorse on their faces. They had tried to remove the King? But wasn't that treason? And if they had failed, as it seemed they had done, what would Louis do to them now? That had to be the reason that the soldiers and musketeers had come barging into the monastery that night in search for them, for Louis was sure to want them dead now that they knew the truth and had tried to carry out his greatest fear.
> 
> And yet her heart ached a little for the man they spoke of. How horrible it must be to have been put into such a prison without knowing the real reason as to why you were thrown in there. She had no real love for the King, but she couldn't imagine that he was heartless enough to throw his own brother into the Bastille simply for being his brother. Though apparently he was, which angered Katherine more than she could possibly say.
> 
> "Then we're running out of time," she said softly, brushing her hand against the cheek of the man who had raised her with such love and tenderness. "We can't leave the poor man there. He doesn't deserve to be in the Bastille."
> 
> Aramis shook his head gravely. "No, he does not."
> 
> "Aramis, we are going into untold dangers when we ride to the Bastille," reasoned Porthos, looking down at his friend from where he stood. "That is no place for a woman."
> 
> Athos nodded his head. "We do not even know what we will be getting into. We cannot risk Katherine's life as well."
> 
> But the young woman stood slowly, looking at the three of them with the same boldness in her bright blue eyes as they had seen countless other times in her youth. "I am the one risking my life, Uncle. You cannot have included me up to this point, telling me what you have without allowing me to continue on from here."
> 
> Uncertainty was clear in their faces as Aramis struggled slowly to his feet, aided by Katherine's steady hand for the last bit. "D'Artagnan is the captain of the King's musketeers, and he will know just as much as you, if not more. I might be able to serve as some kind of distraction to buy you more time if needed. And besides, he always _did_ like me."
> 
> A coy smile lifted the corner of her lips, knowing that she was right. For whatever reason, D'Artagnan had taken quite an interest in her as she was growing up, always calling on Aramis to know how she was coming along in her growth and if there were complications of any kind. She had never understood why, but had gratefully accepted him as another Uncle, someone who cared for her just as his three friends did. For this above all things, she had always considered herself to be luckier than the King of France himself, who could no boast of such love even if he had the heart to try.
> 
> "Please. Let me come with you."
> 
> Silence filled the room as the speaking seemed to come to an end, instead becoming more of a mental conversation shared between friends who had known one another for a great length of time. Her eyes moved back and forth between them as she searched for a sign, some kind of definite decision that would tell her where she stood in this new mess they had found themselves in. The fact that she was a woman was evident, and therefore a strike against her for wanting to accompany them on their mission. But considering that it was probably their biggest reason for her to remain where she was, they were taking quite a while to determine whether or not they would let her go.
> 
> Finally, it was Athos who spoke. "She is younger than we are, and her being a woman might work to our advantage if the guards prove to be a challenge."
> 
> Porthos was quick to nod his approval, his eyes immediately turning to Aramis, who seemed to be looking at Katherine with the same straight look he wore when he was finally at peace with himself.
> 
> "Very well," came his gentle voice. "But you will have to wear something more appropriate."
> 
> A grin spread itself slowly across her face. "I have just the thing."


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

> **Here is a second chapter for those who might have already begun looking at this story. I know it's being posted fairly quickly, but I have quite a number of chapters to post before I am caught up with where I am currently on FF.net, so hopefully some of you will leave me a review and tell me what you think.**
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter II**
> 
>  

> "Open up, we have prisoners!"
> 
> The guard accepted the piece of parchment that was slipped through the small opening in the door and closed it almost as soon as he had taken it from Porthos' hand. In that second that they had, Aramis gently patted Athos on the shoulder in reassurance while Porthos adjusted the weight that he bore on his shoulders. They had taken only a few more moments back at the monestary to change their clothes and adjust the letter that D'Artagnan had attached to the door before they had left. After all, they couldn't show up with two prisoners for the Bastille if the letter would only permit the entrance of one. Not everyone was immediately meant to be taken to the Bastille, so the circumstances had to change slightly in order for them to throw off any kind of suspicion. Within moments the heavy door was swung aside and a guard was ushering them in, looking at the limp body that hung over Porthos' shoulder.
> 
> "Take this down," the guard ordered as he handed Aramis the letter back. "The captain will deal with you shortly."
> 
> With the first part of their plan now behind them, they hurried off toward the staircase and immediately hid themselves from sight as they moved into the depths of the prison itself. But it was only when they were safely on the other side of the gate at the very bottom that they allowed their charade to be dropped, with Athos straightening himself and removing the blanket that hid his uniform from his shoulders while Katherine, now clad in boy's clothing, slid from her Uncle's strong shoulder and landed softly on the floor below.
> 
> "We did it, we are in," Porthos declared happily, handing over a sword he had concealed on his person to Katherine for later use.
> 
> "Of course we got in, it's a prison," Athos told his friend quickly, taking the hat that Aramis offered to him. "The trouble will come when we want to get out."
> 
> They all looked up, shuffling off to either side of the staircase and behind the pillars as they heard footsteps approaching them. Guards hurried up the steps, not bothering to take in any of their surroundings before they moved up toward the courtyard, where a change of the guard was sure to be taking place. And just on time, the chimes of midnight sounded.
> 
> "We have to go now," Katherine told them quickly, her blue eyes hovering at the gate. "Go, find Philippe. He said we'd only have ten minutes."
> 
> All three men looked to each other and then back at her, confused by her words. "Are you coming?" Athos asked, but the girl shook her head firmly.
> 
> "We have no idea how many guards are around his cell. If I stay here, then at the very least I can warn you of impending dangers and hopefully buy you some time." At the look of worry that crossed their faces, the girl smiled brightly. "Do not worry for me. I learned from the best."
> 
> The familiar sound of a drawn sword bounced around the hard stone room, her free hand resting on her hip in the very way she had been taught to hold her sword long ago. It was true, they thought silently. Katherine had taken lessons at her own insistence from the time that she was old enough to hold up a sword without falling over, and if trouble should happen upon her, she knew enough to keep herself alive, or at least put up a good fight. Despite her appearance in clothing, however, people would still be able to tell that she was a woman from the way in which she had styled her hair as well as the figure that lurked beneath the material of her shirt. If nothing else, they might be more hesitant to fight her.
> 
> "Let's go."
> 
> All three men ran down the corridor, taking the directions that D'Artagnan had left them in the hopes that they would be able to handle whatever trap lay in wait for them. And yet, after having read the note that had been left in the door for them to find, the young woman was beginning to question the motives behind his desire to help. She had known D'Artagnan for as long as she could remember, having been a constant presence in her life since Aramis had first brought her into the monastery. She knew him to be a dedicated and loyal man, someone who seemed to fear nothing as he raced head on into danger for king and country. So why did the life of one man make such a difference to him? Yes, he was the twin brother of the King, she knew that without having even laid eyes on him. But what was it that made D'Artagnan get involved in something so political when his only alliance had ever been to the reigning King of France? The entire situation made precious little sense to her as she stood there, listening intently for sounds of trouble that might be headed in her direction. Ten minutes was an awfully short time in which they could race through the bowels of the fortress prison and find a single prisoner. Would they be able to do it in time for them all to escape with their lives?
> 
> A drop of moisture hit the floor. A rat scurried across the straw of a cell while an inmate shifted to try and get away from it. The smell that had hit her when they arrived had almost knocked her over, so strong were the odours of rot and bodily fluids. While the people of Paris were discontented with their way of living right now, she could guarantee that none of them would want to be down here for long. There was no way for the rays of sunshine to leak into this dismal place, no way for the prisoners to look up at the sky and pray for some kind of miracle to befall them so they might not die alone and forgotten in their cells. Katherine had to wonder if there really was a crime that was bad enough for anyone to end up here for the rest of their miserable lives. The King thought there was, she thought bitterly as she looked around her in disgust. The King who was supposed to govern his people with a fair hand and good judgement, the very man who was supposed to be their leader in times of crisis thought there were punishments that warranted imprisonment in here. And worst of all, he had sentenced his own brother to dwell in such a place, merely for the fact that they shared a face and a parentage that neither of them could help. God forgive her, but she wanted nothing more than to reach out and slap this man for being such a heartless beast.
> 
> Suddenly her head turned back toward the very same corridor in which the three former musketeers had disappeared, her sword raised in preparation for trouble. The footsteps were hurried and drawing closer, which meant that it was either them returning with their imprisoned prince, or guards who had been alerted to their presence. Katherine adjusted her fingers around her sword, knees bent in preparation for whatever might round the corner within the next few seconds, whether it be friend or foe. She could handle herself, she knew that. With all of the training she had gotten from the four of them over her twenty years she was sure that she too could have been a musketeer, if not for the issue of her sex. Not that the others would ever allow it. Porthos and Athos maybe, but Aramis and D'Artagnan? Never.
> 
> Athos was the first to round the corner, instantly allowing Kate to relax a little and straighten as she glanced back at the staircase. "I get the feeling that we're not coming out the way we came in, so how exact-"
> 
> She raised her sword again, eyes wide with fright as she spotted the figure that stood at the back of the group, an iron mask hiding his face from being properly seen. But Aramis was quick to jump in front of the point, guarding the young man from any pending attack.
> 
> "No, Kate! This is Philippe."
> 
> Her head snapped between Aramis and the others, finally coming to rest on the body that stood behind her guardian. He seemed just as uncertain of her presence as she did his, with his shoulders rounded and hunched forward a little as he attempted to drop his face from her gaze. But the mask wrapped itself all the way around his head and was hardly concealed by his evident shyness.
> 
> "You will forgive me if I do not take the time to curtsey," she said slowly, dropping her sword again. "But I'm afraid that we are running out of..."
> 
> She stopped again, her ears trained on the coming sounds that emanated from the steps. In a flash she was pointing back toward the spots in the wall that they had hidden in before, pushing Athos and Porthos to the one side while she headed for the other, Aramis hot on her heels with Philippe in tow. With a raised finger to her lips she motioned for the others to remain silent, hiding herself behind the pillar just enough that she could see who it was that came down the stairs from the courtyard above. They were close, moving rather quickly against the steps. And the boots they wore on their feet were of a much harder material than her own, for she could hear the heavy tread that the others had brought with them when they had descended the steps initially. Thank goodness she didn't have a pair of boots like the ones they wore with their uniforms, or there was no possible way she could have been quiet in a place like there, where every sound echoed off of the walls. And as her bright blue eyes watched the staircase intently, she couldn't help but turn her head and glance over at the boy that had been rescued, the very one she was risking her life for. Was he truly the King's twin? It was impossible to tell with that mask on his face...
> 
> In that moment she realized that he was looking back at her as well, and the modest young woman in her immediately dropped her gaze and turned her head away, focusing on the task at hand. That was highly improper, she chastised herself silently, staring like that. And at the King's brother no less! What he must think of seeing her like this, a woman dressed like a man and carrying a sword as if she knew what she was getting into. But she _did_ know, came that quick reminder. And she had been the one who had wanted to come along and help, so there was nobody to blame but herself if something went wrong and she was hurt. Giving herself a mental shake, Kate turned her eyes back to the staircase in time to see a flash of black cloth and an insignia that was all too familiar to her eyes. But before she could say anything, Athos and Porthos were out of their hiding place with their swords trained at his throat, Aramis not too far behind. D'Artagnan, for his part, simply stopped in his tracks and looked around at them all as if he had been in a similar situation before.
> 
> "You will not get out through the courtyard," he told them simply. "Men are assembling there as we speak."
> 
> "Do not trust him, it's a trap," Athos told the others as he pressed his sword a little more firmly against D'Artagnan's skin.
> 
> "See for yourself."
> 
> Unsure of what to do, Porthos headed up the stairs and took a look at the courtyard, leaving Kate and Philippe to remove themselves from their hiding place and come into view. This seemed to take the captain by surprise as he looked at the sorrow filled glance he got from the young woman before his eyes turned from her, coming to rest on the only other figure who did not threaten his life.
> 
> "For all you have suffered, I would gladly have endured it myself to keep it from you," he murmured. And then he turned to Aramis. "You should not have brought her here. It's far too dangerous for her."
> 
> A frown crossed her features as she sheathed her sword once more and folded her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm no longer a child, Uncle. That babe you carried on your shoulders during your visits with Papa does not exist anymore."
> 
> "D'Artagnan is right, the courtyard is filling with soldiers," Porthos said as he closed the gate behind him and joined the others.
> 
> "This way."
> 
> Always their fearless leader, D'Artagnan ignored the swords that were pointed at him and pushed on ahead, leading them down the corridors and around the corners that would otherwise have turned them completely around. All the way along, Kate caught glances at some of the other unfortunate souls that were locked away in their cages, her heart aching for those she saw in such a state of being.
> 
> "You cannot save them all, Katherine," Aramis told her as he ran alongside her. "It is best that you focus on the good you are doing now."
> 
> At that her eyes lifted a little, glancing up at the masked figure who ran just ahead of her. Yes, she was doing some good right now, wasn't she? More than she probably could have ever dreamed of doing while she spent her days working around the priests of the monastery, waiting somewhat impatiently for Papa to return from his visits with the King. But if she could not save them all, then she was determined to save the one person who might be the voice against their injustice.
> 
> As they continued to run down the corridor, their positions seemed to change only slightly. Katherine had taken notice of how close between Athos and D'Artagnan that Phillipe seemed to be, and so she remained close to him as well in case they should happen upon something unexpected. Porthos and Aramis brought up the rear of their group, though Katherine's wandering eyes were always glancing back at her father to ensure that he was close by. Only when they rounded the final corner and reached the door that stood at the very end did they regroup once again.
> 
> "If we leave this way, they will know that you helped us," Aramis said quickly, looking at his old friend and the lock that he pulled aside.
> 
> But D'Artagnan shook his head. "It doesn't matter now."
> 
> With one swift movement they had pulled the door aside, showing the empty courtyard that would lead them toward the river and a chance at freedom. It was so close that Kate thought perhaps they might actually make it unscathed, turning herself around to the man who had pulled himself out of their way.
> 
> "You must come with us," she told him quickly, reaching out to touch his arm. "If the King will know that you helped us free Philippe then your life is in danger. Uncle...please do not go back."
> 
> The older man lifted his head a little to look down at her, meeting her eyes with the same intensity that his own blue ones held. "Alas _ma petite,_ I cannot go with you. My duty is to my King."
> 
> The brunette shook her head, ignoring the wisps of hair that had fallen from her braid and now clung to the sides of her face. "He will have you killed if you go back. You heard Papa. The King will know that you helped us."
> 
> Never before had Katherine spoken in such a way to her Uncle, whom she had come to love dearly for all of the attention he had paid her as a child and the kindness he had shown her. No one else aside from the four friends had paid the child any mind, seeing her as more of a bother, an interruption to their otherwise quiet lives. And yet in that moment, D'Artagnan came to understand just how much that child had grown up as he watched the fear radiate in her eyes, mixed heavily with the stubborn look that he knew all too well. His lips parted as if to answer, until the sound of approaching horses brought an abrupt end to their conversation and forced them all to turn their heads toward the archway. The King had found them, and had brought with him a large number of men who could easily handle the wagon of guns and ammunition that also accompanied him.
> 
> "Fire!"
> 
> Without a second thought Katherine pulled herself away from D'Artagnan and quickly moved to the front of the group, shielding Philippe and the others as best as she could until they were all safely on the other side of the closed door. But the fight was sure to continue as they hurried back down the corridor toward a second door, rounding the corner to retrace some of their steps before they heard yet another attack coming from that side. The soldiers of the Bastille had noticed their newest prisoner to be missing from his cell and ran forward with swords drawn, yelling angrily before they found that door to be closed as well, held tightly against them by four older men who were determined to keep them at bay. Helpless for what to do, Katherine looked up as Philippe tapped her shoulder, nodding down to the beam of wood that lay on the ground. In an instant, they had picked it up and moved toward the door, using it to help barricade them inside the alcove.
> 
> "We're trapped," Athos muttered, glancing back at the way they had intended to exit. But with soldiers on both sides of them, that didn't seem as likely to happen.
> 
> "Katherine, your side!"
> 
> In their efforts to move safely back inside and search for another way of leaving, Katherine had not noticed the wound she had gotten from moving to protect Philippe. One of the bullets that had been fired seemed to have caught a part of her side, tearing open the skin and soaking the white material of her shirt with the tell-tale signs of blood.
> 
> She quickly pressed a hand against it, shaking her head as she looked up at the others. "I'm fine, it's nothing."
> 
> But Athos was quick to kneel at her side and lift the corner of the shirt, assessing the damage that had been done to her flesh. Aramis and the others were not far behind in their worry, eyes turning down to the gash that she had received for her efforts at being a protector. Philippe, for his part, looked away from the exposed skin around her middle.
> 
> "We'll need to wrap it, to stop too much blood from being lost," he said, brushing his rough fingers along her side before she stepped just out of his reach.
> 
> "I said I was alright," she said stubbornly, pulling at the edge of her shirt until a tear had formed. Thank goodness the silly thing was far too long for her body. "We'll just use this and I shall deal with it later."
> 
> Katherine continued to pull along the bottom of her shirt until she had a solid strip of material in her hands, wrapping it firmly around the wound with a small grimace from how tightly it pressed into the skin. She allowed Athos to tie it off, holding the shirt a little higher so that he could see what he was doing before she dropped it, hiding her make-shift bandage from view though the stain of blood remained visible.
> 
> With that accomplished, Athos rose and drew his pistol, moving to the corner of the corridor that would make them visible to the enemy they had first attempted to avoid. The lock of that door would not hold them for long, and as Louis was not a patient King in terms of wanting results, he was sure that they would be upon them soon. The other three followed suit and filed in alongside him, aiming their pistols at the doorway in preparation. Philippe tried to follow, but was gently moved back to a safer place around the corner before he could step into view. And when Katherine made the effort to move forward, she was rewarded with a stern look from D'Artagnan.
> 
> "Do not let them get to Philippe."
> 
> Though annoyed at being removed so quickly from their battle, the girl nodded and drew her sword with her right hand while her left wrapped itself around her abdomen to apply pressure to her bandage. If anyone should get by them in an effort to harm Philippe, they would have to get through her first.
> 
> "You have my word, Uncle."
> 
> The old man nodded in approval, snapping his head back to the door as the first bang sounded. It did not take long for them to throw the door open, running forward with raised swords as they prepared to fight for their King. All of them were musketeers, wearing the blue uniform that had replaced the black that they now opposed. And so it was to begin.
> 
>  


	3. Chapter 3

 

> **Hey guys! Me again with another chapter. I don't know that anyone is yet reading this, but I'd love to know if you are! Feel free to drop me a little message as a review when you've finished to tell me how you think the story is progressing so far.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Chapter III**
> 
> "Spare their lives if you can."
> 
> The roar of musketeers sounded violently in the corridor as they rushed forward, swords drawn and seemingly unafraid of the guns pointed in their direction. In an instant, all four guns sounded as they fired toward the approaching threat, wounding the first few who dropped quickly to the cold hard ground beneath them. And as those guns became useless, they were thrown off to the side and swords were drawn to meet those that came forward from the musketeers, each one intent on doing harm to those who opposed the King for whom they fought. None seemed to pay much mind to the fact that their own captain stood among the rebel number, knowing only that they had been told to take down whomever stood in the way of Louis and what he wanted to gain. And for that fact, the King himself, clad in his decorative armour and golden clothing came into the back of the corridor nearest the exit, watching the blood bath begin.
> 
> With the advance of D'Artagnan and the others, Katherine moved from around the corner and stood with her sword tightly in her hand in preparation. As he had no way of defending himself, she was the only person who stood between Philippe and any would-be assassin who had been ordered by Louis to kill the masked man if given the chance. But from there, she was able to make her presence known to the King who stood so far away, her eyes filled with a fiery hatred that few had ever known her to possess. And it seemed that despite the distance between them, Louis was all too aware of the set of eyes that watched him with such contempt, as he turned his head and locked onto her for a moment before pointing in her direction. The noise of the fighting might have kept her from hearing what he said, but she was all too aware of the fact that he had now taken notice of her and that her life was in the same danger as everyone else's for being there that night. Fine, she thought. If that was how this must be, then let the King come for her. Katherine would defend herself, her father, uncles and Philippe with whatever breath remained in her body.
> 
> A war cry sounded just ahead of her as a man pushed through the fighting and came at her full force. In a second her sword was raised and clashing against his, immediately feeling the heavy weight of his bulk pressing down against her smaller frame. This was the only major disadvantage that Katherine had been forced to deal with all her life, the fact that she was normally smaller than her opponent, but that wasn't what would win the day. Seeing that his gaze was intently focused on her face with a menacing stare, Katherine seized the moment to shift her weight and draw one foot back, kicking him in the knee with all her might. The man quickly bent over as he combated the newfound pain and gave her a much clearer shot at driving the butt of her sword down on his skull, which instantly rendered the man unconscious. It was over in an instant as he slumped to the ground in a motionless state, but another was quick to take his place and this time backed Kate up against a wall. Damn, she thought, she hadn't been paying attention to anything else but the man who had previously attacked her, and another had slipped through their defences unnoticed. And though she had managed to raise her sword in time to meet his, this man was even bigger than the last.
> 
> Her back met the cold dampness of the Bastille wall as she grit her teeth in an effort to keep him as far away from her as possible without crying out at the pain she could feel burning in her side. Somewhere in the fighting, she heard one of the others call her name when they took notice of her plight, but there were too many musketeers for any of them to come to her aid without the risk of more coming forward for Philippe.
> 
> "Surrender yourself!" he sneered at her, taking obvious notice of her sex as he glanced down at her hungrily. "The King will surely grant you a pardon and find you a more suitable position at court."
> 
> The very idea of being anywhere near Louis made her stomach turn, the anger once again flashing in her eyes. "I'd rather die," she spat back at him, continuing to push in an effort to regain her freedom.
> 
> But the man simply laughed at her as he pressed her even tighter to the wall, lowering his head toward her face. "That can be arranged."
> 
> Summoning the strength within her, Kate launched herself forward at the man and managed to catch him off-guard with her rage, tackling them both to the ground before he kicked her off of him. The brunette rolled to the side and reclaimed a handle on her sword in time to block a strike from the musketeer. She answered with a swipe of her own, beginning an exchange of blows that kept both of them moving and on their toes as they dodged and blocked each swift movement. Both were well trained, of this there was no doubt. Katherine was rather certain that they had been taught by the same teacher as well, which was not giving her the advantage she had been seeking originally when he had backed her against the wall. And yet she was sure that she had been taught a thing or two more than this man, for while he was supposed to fight honourably and consider his opponent at all times, Katherine had received slightly different instructions from the very beginning. With one hand back to holding her side she could feel the sweat dripping from her brow as wisps of her hair flew before her eyes. Her body ached rather terribly thanks to that gash she had gotten earlier, but she refused to lay down and accept defeat. That had never been her way.
> 
> "If you want me, then here I am," Kate threatened. "Come and get me."
> 
> Seeing her tired state seemed to boost the musketeer's confidence just enough for him to lunge one last time, raising his sword to a dangerously high point that made it harder to defend any oncoming attack. This was her moment! Katherine too launched herself forward, rolling on the floor to keep her body at a lower point before she raised herself to one knee and thrust her sword forward, finally finding the connection that she needed. The look of shock that crossed his face was almost instantaneous, his eyes slowly dropping to the point of his body from which Kate's sword had entered so suddenly. And as soon as she removed it, he fell to his knees and slumped forward to breathe his last. She found no joy in taking his life as she forced herself back to her feet as quickly as she could manage, but she knew that God would forgive her. She would just need to go to confession later on.
> 
> Blue eyes looked around for signs of more impending danger, but found none as Aramis and the others all turned themselves around and hurried back around the corner to Philippe, Porthos grabbing her arm to lead her back as well. There they all seemed to fall back against the walls, breathing heavily from the fight. Only D'Artagnan, being the youngest of the four, seemed not to be winded. Katherine found herself bending forward slightly with grit teeth, taking but a moment to regain her senses before she straightened up and moved to stand by Aramis as she checked to see that he was alright. There were definitely signs of a battle on him now, from the little cuts on his face to the sweat that rolled down his cheek. But of the four men, only Athos shared the blood that now decorated the blade of her sword, which meant that there were probably several musketeers who had gotten up and moved back down the corridor to join their King. They were caught in the middle with nowhere to run.
> 
> Louis seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "D'Artagnan," he called, his voice echoing through the corridor. "I am not angry with you. I knew you would lead me to them and so you have." She could see the lines in his face harden at the implication of betrayal, his jaw clenching to prevent any escaping sound as he neared the corner of the wall and continued to listen. "Come back to us and you can retire quietly. I'll be kind to the young woman in your company, and I'll even give your friends a swift execution, if you surrender now!"
> 
> Now it was Katherine's turn to be angered, remembering the words uttered by the man she had killed. How dare he mention her in his pitiful attempt to bargain with them! While Katherine had no desire to die that night, she certainly didn't want to be treated any differently from the rest as if they had coerced her into coming along with them.
> 
> "Perhaps you should take his offer, D'Artagnan," Aramis said with a resigned sigh. "We're dead anyway."
> 
> The old priest looked down at Katherine's surprised face with a small half-smile, sure to know what thoughts were running through her mind now that he had dared to utter those words. He lifted his free hand and gently stroked her hair as he had done so many times in the past, his eyes roaming her face as if he were trying to engrain her image into his mind. "There has to be a way, Papa," she replied in earnest, stepping forward to lay her head against his chest. "It cannot end like this."
> 
> Silence fell between them. There were no solutions to be offered, no alternative ways in which they could escape the situation they had placed themselves in. All that there was to do now was decide whether they should surrender quietly to Louis or attempt to renew the fight and hope that they would be killed swiftly before they could be tortured in the Bastille.
> 
> "Maybe there is a way." All eyes turned to the masked man, who spoke for the very first time since coming across Katherine. "Bargain me to Louis for your lives," Philippe said, pressing his hands to his chest.
> 
> But D'Artagnan shook his head. "No...NO," he said quickly with a raised hand as Philippe tried to protest. "Even if I could give up my King, I could never give up...my son."
> 
> In that single moment they all seemed to be at a loss for words. To utter such a thing was surely a treason even worse than the thought of replacing a king with his twin brother, and yet the captain of the musketeers had said it aloud for five others to witness. Athos and Porthos simply stared at D'Artagnan, while Aramis turned his head to look at Philippe, who stood there in such a state of shock that he momentarily feared the young man had gone catatonic. Katherine too found that her eyes rested on her uncle at his confession, but found that a part of her desired to break down and cry for the anguish she saw in his eyes. To have a son...two, for that matter, and never be allowed to acknowledge your kinship to them was a terrible thing to consider.
> 
> "Your son?" Philippe breathed, reminding her that this was the very son he had known nothing about until only recently.
> 
> "I loved your Mother. I love her still. You are my son." As the poor boy continued to digest the truth of his parentage, D'Artagnan turned himself and crossed a few steps toward Katherine, lifting his hands for her to place her own smaller ones in his. "And I'm afraid I must ask for your forgiveness, my dear...because I know the truth of your past as well."
> 
> Still in shock from the idea that her uncle was actually the father of the King, Katherine looked up with an almost stunned expression upon her face and nearly missed the meaning of his next words. "Of course you do," she said quickly, dropping her eyes a little. "I was left on the steps of the monastery, where Papa found me and took me in."
> 
> There was nothing romantic or treasonous about her story. It was simply a sad tale of a woman who could not provide for the child she had carried and decided to leave her somewhere in the hopes that a kind stranger might find her before she froze to death in the winter months.
> 
> But D'Artagnan shook his head firmly and wrapped his fingers around her hands. "No, _ma petite_. You are not simply a child who was abandoned without love."
> 
> He looked down at her now the same way he had looked upon her years ago, when she had been nothing more than a girl who was constantly underfoot and always looking for a new adventure to go on. Aramis had found her wild spirit endearing at times, though distracting when he was attempting to pray...and those had been the moments when D'Artagnan had stepped in to soothe the child for a short while so that Aramis could cleanse his soul for another day. That was all she had been, she thought sadly as she looked up at his pale blue eyes. A replacement for the fact that he could not love his own sons the way a father should.
> 
> The sounds of scuffling down the hallway caught their attention and D'Artagnan quickly backed himself up against the wall once again, pulling Katherine with him as he lay an arm protectively over her chest. The King was re-assembling his men, and this time it sounded as though they had more than swords at their sides. The dangers they were in grew with every moment they stood there without a plan, hearing the slamming against the door they had previously barricaded begin to sound. The guards of the Bastille were attempting to remove the door from its hinges entirely, and that meant that they were running out of time at a much faster rate than they had thought. If ever there was a need for a plan of action, this was that time.
> 
> "D'Artagnan," Aramis began slowly. "These musketeers are young, and they've been weaned on our legends. That might be our advantage!"
> 
> Porthos stepped forward, the wheels of his own mind beginning to turn. "Yes, why don't we charge them?"
> 
> But the captain would have none of it and shook his head. "I trained these men. They will fight to the death."
> 
> Sensing there to be tension once again lingering over their heads as they stumbled around for a way out, Katherine looked up at her uncle and gently placed a hand on his arm. "If we stay here for too much longer without doing anything, we'll die anyway."
> 
> Charging them was not exactly what she had in mind when it came to a valiant effort of escaping, but it was the only solution that had been offered up for them to consider. A sigh fell from D'Artagnan's lips as he looked down at the young woman, his eyes filled with a sadness that she had come to know in him only recently...and only now began to understand fully. "Then if we must die...if _we_ must die...let it be like this."
> 
> In two powerful strides he had moved to the vacant space between them all, holding his sword out before him with the point down in the ground. It took but a moment before Aramis and Porthos did the same, crossing the blades of their swords with his. Athos followed a moment later as he added his blood stained companion to the mix.
> 
> Seeing them all together like this, working and trusting as they were sure to have done in the past, made Katherine feel a great swell of pride in her chest. While none of them were as young as they had once been, she knew that this was how so many of their adventures would have begun as they rode off on their next mission together. Their friendship had been tested in the most extreme sense as each of them battled personal demons and questions of loyalty, but it was plain to her eyes that in the face of death, they were able to come together as friends. As family. Part of her wished that she had been present to see them in their glory days, dashing young musketeers who were quick with their swords and tongues as they served their country and protected their King from harm. For now that they stood there so closely, she could only begin to know what they had been like before all of this madness had come to pass.
> 
> The young woman stepped forward herself, coming to a place between Athos and D'Artagnan, which earned her a sharp look from Aramis. "No, Katherine."
> 
> But she refused to back down on this one, holding her sword tightly in her hand. "I've come this far. And I will not stand by to grieve a loss while the rest of you rush toward death."
> 
> For a brief moment, the pair locked eyes and silently stood in an attempt to see which would break down first. Ultimately, Aramis gave a resigned sigh and nodded his consent, watching his daughter place her sword against the rest as he swallowed the fact that she truly was no longer a child. Slow footsteps could be heard from behind, causing Katherine to turn around just in time to see Philippe advance with a blade of his own, one that he had acquired from the man that Katherine had killed. No words were spoken as he brought himself up beside her and turned to look at the man who had called him his son only moments ago, though it was nearly impossible to read the expressions on his face because of the mask that he wore. But even D'Artagnan seemed prepared to accept that his child had grown beyond his childhood years, nodding his consent the same way that her own father had and watching as their group was completed.
> 
> "All for one, one for all," Katherine told them.
> 
> A moment of silence passed between them as they absorbed the weight of the motto that had been used by the musketeers for centuries, each one pulling back slightly and holding their sword in front of them in preparation. Louis would not see the charge coming, and that was their greatest advantage at this point. With a fearsome roar, D'Artagnan was the first to take off running for the corner, followed closely by the others who also took up the war cry with swords raised high above their heads. For a moment, all they could hear were their own voices echoing off the walls of the Bastille, running almost in a state of slow motion before the guns finally began to fire. It somehow seemed delayed to them as they ran, feeling some of the bullets graze their uniforms and hit the ground beneath their feet. But was it? Had the musketeers fired upon them as soon as Louis had ordered, or had there actually been a delay in carrying out his orders because they had been taken by surprise by the sudden rush of courage that overwhelmed them? None of them really knew as they ducked from the bullets, their pace not slowing until at last the final gun had sounded and the smoke billowed from the ends of the pistols. Everything around them feel deathly quiet as they waited for the outcome, each hobbling forward through the smoke until they were mere feet away from the much larger group of men.
> 
> Swords were held at the ready, prepared for the fighting to begin again, but it never came. D'Artagnan's second in command, a man they knew to be Andre, rose to his feet and saluted them with his sword, holding the hilt over his heart. And one by one, all of the other men rose and did the same, showing their respect to those who had braved death and chosen to continue the fighting on their own terms but still within the honourary code that they all seemed to follow. It could almost be described as a sense of ease that overtook them all, removing the immediate feeling of danger even when the King pushed his way to the very front of his men and eyed them all with contempt. Then suddenly he launched himself toward Philippe, a dagger raised in his hand. Between D'Artagnan and Philippe they managed to push him back against one of the walls and away from his target, but Louis was not ready to give in. With a vicious scream he threw himself forward again and aimed for his brother's heart...instead plunging the dagger straight into D'Artagnan's back.
> 
> Katherine couldn't be sure that the scream had come from her lips as she dropped her sword and her eyes widened in terror, watching the scene unfold before she truly understood what had happened. Philippe now threw himself onto Louis, pinning him to the wall as his hands struggled to find his throat and squeeze tightly. Athos had run forward to take ahold of D'Artagnan's quivering form and pulled him a short distance before he had been forced to the ground under the strain, the others surrounding him immediately. Breathing heavily she moved to kneel on the opposite side of his body, watching his chest rise and fall in an unsteady and dangerous rhythm.
> 
> "Philippe! Philippe!" Even in his wounded state, D'Artagnan was still attempting to take charge of the situation. "He is your brother."
> 
> The reminder was all that the masked man required to abandon his efforts at killing his twin in rage as he too moved over to the fallen hero, taking the much more intimate place of kneeling before his father. His hands flew to the mask he wore, tugging at the lock and metal caging. "Get this thing off me," he screamed, struggling with the mask as he tried his best to claw it away.
> 
> Aramis moved toward the King, who still lay on the ground, and ripped the chain roughly from around his neck before he hurried back to Philippe and unlocked the mask that hid his face. In the instant it came off, Katherine turned her head and was stricken by the physical resemblance between the two brothers, who couldn't have been more different than the sun and moon if they tried.
> 
> "This is the death I have always wanted," breathed the old man, looking at his son with an almost distant look in his eyes.
> 
> Katherine swallowed. "You will not die, Uncle," she said firmly as the emotions built in her throat. "I cannot let you."
> 
> He attempted a soothing sound and reached for one of her hands, closing his eyes as his breathing became even more unsteady and rapid, but she would have none of it. The years that she had spent in the monastery meant that young Katherine had seen a great many things that most others had not. She had dealt with the sick and the hungry, helped those who suffered from unknown ailments and assisted in the delivery of children. And now that there was another patient before her, someone she dearly loved with every fibre of her being, she was not going to fail in her task.
> 
> "I will save you," she whispered against his ear, leaning forward to kiss his forehead gently. "I promise."
> 
> At those last words, she cast a sideways glance at Philippe, allowing their eyes to meet for only a moment before she turned back to Andre and began barking orders of how he was to help her and what she needed in order to return him to the monastery where she could properly care for him.
> 
> Four other musketeers were ushered back inside and ordered to gently pick their captain up from the ground, freeing Athos and the others to deal with the King and Philippe as well as the guards who were still hammering away at the door on the other end of the corridor. Her own heart was beating viciously as she watched the old man wince in pain at being moved, quickly screaming for them to be careful with him. They all seemed a little uncertain about taking orders from a woman, but seemed intent on getting D'Artagnan through the door and to a wagon without further issue.
> 
> She too made to follow, anxious to get him back before he could take a turn for the worst when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see the bright eyes of Philippe looking at her. "Please do what you can," he begged her gently. "I have only just found him. I do not wish to lose him so quickly."
> 
> Unsure of what to do as she felt his hand linger on her shoulder, Katherine dropped her eyes and gave him a wordless curtsey. She was sure it probably looked a little strange, since she was not in her customary skirts, but it was the best she could do in this situation. And as she rose to her feet once more, she turned as quickly as she could without establishing eye contact and dashed out the door to accompany D'Artagnan's ailing body back to the monastery. Philippe watched her go, curious of her reactions and afraid for his father's life before a voice caused him to turn around and look down at his brother once more.
> 
> "You may very well have killed the man who attempted to keep you on your throne," Athos hissed down at Louis. "But this time, you will not be so lucky."
> 
>  


	4. Chapter 4

> "Put him there."
> 
> Despite the late hour of the night they had come crashing into the monastery with their fallen captain suspended between the four of them they were creating far more noise than was really necessary, but Katherine wasn't in the frame of mind to care right then. His face had grown pale as the blood continued to stain every inch of clothing that she pressed against the wound, including the legs of her pants from when she had propped him up against her in the wagon. The material now clung to her thighs rather tightly to show the leaner frame that lay beneath the boyish attire, the sleeves of her shirt having been ripped off ages ago to sop up even more blood as they hit bumps and holes in the roads.
> 
> The musketeers were quick to place him on the cot that she had pointed to, stepping back as soon as he was safely on the material to give the girl as much room as she needed in order to administer to his wound. Louis had plunged it rather deeply, the bastard, causing so much damage that Katherine was beginning to panic that she might in fact lose him before the others could return to his side. But she couldn't see anything with the amount of clothing he wore, especially with it being buried so deeply beneath the old uniform. It broke her heart, knowing what she would need to do next, and she prayed that he would one day be able to forgive her. Given the choice, she would find another way...but time was running precariously short and she could no longer afford to waste anymore of it. Lifting with all of her might, the brunette shifted the musketeer till he lay almost on his stomach and seized a dagger of her own to rip at the material of his uniform until it had fallen away to reveal the stained white shirt beneath it. She made quick work of that as well so that all she could see was the skin of his back and the mark of the dagger.
> 
> "I need hot water," she said, turning her head to call back at one of the waiting musketeers. "Hot water and fresh bandages...and a needle." She heard a pair of boots shifting against the flagstone floor and returned her attention to D'Artagnan, who now seemed to be barely breathing at all. As the walls around her heart began to clench tightly, she prayed that she would be able to keep her promise to Philippe and save the life of the man they both loved, for she too had come to think of him as a father figure in addition to those provided by Aramis and the others. It was simply a name when she called him "uncle," not a distinction of how she felt about him. And the very idea of losing such a dominant figure in her life was simply terrifying to the girl, who had known no love aside from what those four men had given her. But now was not the time for sentimental thought. She had a job to do.
> 
> The young woman rose from her knees and hurried to the far side of the room to grab ahold of a candlestick, bringing it closer to the side of the cot so that she could properly see what it was that she needed to do. Blood was still pooling around the skin on the outside, but at a much slower rate than before, which made the girl worry even more that perhaps the time to save him had come and gone before she had realized it. Footsteps told her that the musketeer had returned with the things that she needed, accompanied by two of the priests that he had woken in his haste to do as she asked of him. It took only a moment for the priests to assess the situation before they too hurried forward and knelt down by the side of the bed, having taken the things that the musketeer had brought in. "Stand guard outside," Katherine told him, signalling to the large oak doors. "We'll do the best we can, but we cannot have you hovering." None of them seemed certain that leaving their captain in the hands of strangers was a wise idea, and so they hesitated and looked between one another for some kind of direction. Only when they saw the look on Katherine's face, half shadowed because of the late hour, did they finally move outside the door and close it tightly behind them.
> 
>  
> 
> ****************************************************************************************************************
> 
>  
> 
> Exhausted from their efforts, the priests had cleaned up the area around the cot on which D'Artagnan lay and returned to their private chambers, leaving Katherine alone to sit in her bloodied clothes by his side. They had propped him up off of his shoulder as much as they could with the resources they had and proceeded to say a prayer over his broken form from which Katherine did not rise. She remained on her knees by his bedside, eyes tightly closed with her hands wrapped firmly around one of his larger ones as her mind continued to plead with God for his life. They had done everything they could possibly do for him at this point from an earthly level, and now all that remained was to pray that he would be permitted to continue living. It was all in God's hands at this point, and it would be at His mercy that D'Artagnan would wake to live another day and guide those who had looked up to him for so long. But for the time being, the girl was determined that she might be able to beg for his soul, willing to remain there as long as necessary until D'Artagnan awoke.
> 
> "Please," she begged softly, lifting her head and opening her eyes to look at her uncle as she pressed his cool hand to her cheek. "Please wake up. Do not think to leave us now...not when we need you so."
> 
> There was no response from him, nor did she expect there to be. A good deal of his blood had been spilled when Louis had plunged the dagger meant for Philippe into his back, and much of it had dried into the tattered clothing that she now wore as she forced her body to remain in a prayer position against the cold floor. Still, she felt it was cruel for Philippe to have finally found someone who loved him after so many years of imprisonment and loneliness to be faced with the prospect of losing them so soon. While Louis had grown up with his parents, knowing exactly what he was to become as servants came to him on bended knee, Philippe had known none of that. The chances of him even being told of his true parentage were rather slim, especially once Louis had inherited his crown from his father. But to learn that his father was not even the previous king...how much of a blow had that truly been?
> 
> Katherine closed her eyes again and gently lowered her head, allowing it to rest against the hand that she held so gingerly in her own two smaller ones. She could understand the pain of never knowing who you really were or where you came from better than most other people could. The feeling of being abandoned for death as a child was something she could not shake, even now that she was twenty and had been fortunate enough to live a comfortable life within the monastery walls. Had he been so lucky? She could not imagine that his entire life had been spent behind the walls of the Bastille, and so wondered how he had been raised until the time that he had been first forced into that mask. The very thought of that terrible thing gave the girl shivers as she remembered the shock she had felt when first she saw him round the corner behind her father and the others, afraid that he was one who had followed them in their attempt to save the king's twin from a lifetime of imprisonment. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that the man behind that monstrosity was in fact the very man they were saving.
> 
> So lost in thought was the young woman as she knelt beside D'Artagnan's unconscious form that she did not take any notice of the passage of time. The darkness outside was slowly beginning to give way to light as the dawn approached them, the candles burning down to mere stubs within their holders. Only when she felt a hand placed on her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin did she come to recognize that she had not moved for a great deal of time.
> 
> Athos looked down at her with concerned eyes. "You need to go and rest now, Katherine," he told her gently. "There is nothing more you can do for him."
> 
> She did not immediately move, but turned her head slowly to look back at her uncle and the tiny movements that came from his chest to tell her that he was still clinging to life. "What if I was too late to save him?"
> 
> The question hung in the air for a few moments as Athos watched her, noting that her eyes had begun to well with tears, a rather strange sight for young Katherine who had always been so tough in the face of hardship and tragedy. But this one was much closer to her heart than any incident she had dealt with before, he realized, and so it would affect her much more than he had originally thought. "You will have done all that you could," Athos murmured gently, placing his hand under her elbow to help ease her aching body off of the floor. "But you know that he would never forgive you for spending so much time in worry for his sake."
> 
> A soft flutter of laughter passed from her lips as she blinked, the tears falling slowly down her cheeks. There was truth in his words, for D'Artagnan would surely chastise her for spending much of her time worrying about his well-being when he insisted that it was his job to worry about her. That was simply one of the many things he had told her over the years as the little girl grew up to ask him about what he did for the King and if his life was ever in danger. He had told her quite a few things in order to ease her mind until she was old enough to handle the truth of his job, and at that time she had begun longing for the day when she could join the ranks of the musketeers herself. But alas, as a woman, he had said that there would never come a time when that would be permitted. Serving the King in such a manner was no place for a woman, who was regarded as being less than a man and merely a piece of property to be traded and sold at will.
> 
> "Nor can I forgive myself if I should have failed him in his hour of need."
> 
> Looking upon her with a saddened gaze, Athos drew the girl to his chest and hugged her tightly against him, stroking her knotted hair gently as she sobbed softly against the material of his uniform. Despite the rift that had grown between himself and D'Artagnan over the King's involvement in Raoul's death, Athos had learned quite a bit about his friend in that short time that they had fought side by side. And now that he had come to know the truth, his own heart ached much in the way that Katherine's appeared to, feeling that there was a chance he may never get to tell D'Artagnan just how sorry he was for all that he had endured.
> 
> Suddenly the girl drew herself back from Athos, startled and afraid of what she might have missed in the time that she had left the Bastille. "Papa? Porthos?" She dared not breathe Philippe's name, for she knew nothing of the boy and was too far beneath him to even consider uttering his name aloud.
> 
> Athos gently stroked her cheek, removing some of her tears. "They are both safe. We have taken care of the King...and he can no longer harm anyone."
> 
> His words felt almost cryptic, confusing the girl even further as she looked up at him with puffy eyes. Was that supposed to mean that Louis had suddenly turned himself completely around? No, that was as likely to happen as Katherine becoming the Queen of France. If anything, it sounded as though Louis and Philippe had finally been set in their rightful places, and so it would be Louis who would scream for an eternity in that hell, locked away from the world and void of the material things he had come to enjoy so much. Now her mind turned to the very reason she still stood in that room, practically supported by Athos as her body slowly began to give way on her.
> 
>  "I promised I would save him."
> 
> The older man nodded, kissing her forehead gently. "You have done all that you can," he repeated to her as he adjusted his hold on her body. "And now it is time to do what you can for yourself. You must rest."
> 
> Lacking the energy required to try and defy him, Katherine merely nodded slowly and straightened her knees beneath her. Her skin pulled tightly as she moved, the blood having dried both her skin and the material of her clothing together, and so that was the first thing she would need to take care of. Yes, she would go and rest as she had been ordered to do...but perhaps not in the way that they would like for her to go about it. While she had vocalized her fear of losing him after the efforts of trying to save his life, she had not said that she was afraid of what might happen in her absence. Someone needed to watch over him, to make sure that there was still some kind of life in his body. Katherine pulled herself slowly away from Athos and turned toward the door, a hand immediately flying to her side as she grit her teeth against the stabbing pain she was now experiencing.
> 
> "You did not take care of that, did you?" Closing her eyes, the girl wordlessly shook her head but dared not turn around to look at her uncle. "Go clean yourself up. Come back here when you have finished and I will dress it for you."
> 
> A slow breath left her lips as Katherine held tightly to her side and continued out the door, passing the musketeers who continued to stand guard and heading for her own quarters within the monastery walls. It was a small room, as those who lived their lives here normally did not require too many material things, but as Katherine was the only woman, they had permitted her to have a few more items than one might normally see. Her bed was tucked neatly in the corner of the room beside a window, still closed against the cool air from where she had left it the night before. On the desk on the opposite side sat a candlestick, a brush and a small mirror that they had given her as a gift for her eighteenth birthday. Various pieces of parchment and quills sat on the top of the desk as well, placed in the upper right hand corner in a rather tidy manner. On the small table beside that sat her bowl, towel and jug of water, the very things that she went immediately to as she moved slowly into the room.
> 
> Her clothes would need to be washed, though she doubted that anyone would be able to get that much blood out of them entirely. Stripping them off was the painful part, as she had to stretch her side in order to pull the remains of her shirt away, while bending over to remove her shoes, socks and pants. A few more steps forward took her right to the table and the waiting sponge that lay in the bottom of the bowl. The water that she poured from the jug was colder than normal at having been left out all night without a fire to warm it, and so the girl shivered slightly as she took the sponge in her hand and began to dab at her aching body with it. Beads of water rolled down her body as she pressed against her collarbone and neck, removing all of the dirt and sweat from her skin. The Bastille was a filthy place, she thought to herself as she slowly sponged her body to a cleaner state of being. It hadn't taken long for traces of it to attach themselves to her and cling viciously to her clothing and flesh, yet another reason for her to be terrified for D'Artagnan's life.
> 
> The makeshift bandage was still tightly wrapped around her side and crusted with her blood, but Katherine did her best to ignore it for the time being. While she could handle the chaos that came with bloodshed and injuries, she wanted to wait until Athos had taken a look at it so that he could assess the damage that had been done to her. His eyes would be a little more careful than her own, seeing things from a better angle and hopefully cleaning it much more thoroughly. Content with the fact that she had washed herself as well as she could for the time being, Katherine moved slowly to the tiny chest of drawers that sat at the foot of the bed and pulled one aside to reveal the normal clothing that she wore as a woman. In minutes she had dressed herself again, wearing a simple shirt and skirt that would allow her to move and Athos to address the issue of her battle scar. The brown material itched her side slightly before she tucked the gentler fabric of her shirt into the waist, slipping her feet into a small pair of leather shoes. All that remained was for her to attempt something a little more appropriate with her hair, which was now a tangled mess from the evening's adventures...
> 
> A short while later she reappeared in the infirmary room, noting that Aramis and Porthos had also returned in the time that she had been gone. The three of them stood close together and muttered in hushed tones, so low that Katherine could not make out any of their words as she entered. Porthos first took notice of her and moved away from their group, causing the other two to bring their eyes up to look at her with the same concerned glances she had seen on them earlier that night.
> 
> "You look at me as if you think I am a ghost, Papa," she said in a weak attempt at humour. "What happened after I left you?"
> 
> Porthos gently wrapped an arm around her back and lead her forward to another cot in the room, gently prompting her to sit on the edge as Athos knelt down beside her and pulled her clothes away to deal with the bloody bandage on her side. She leaned her body away, stretching the skin with a bit of a wince as he began to untie the knot that she had used to keep the cloth in place. He was being as gentle as possible, she knew that, but the bandage would not remove easily, for the blood that had dried to it would also have dried to her skin and thus made them one.
> 
> "Louis and Philippe have both been put in their rightful places," Aramis said gently as he moved across the room to bring a bowl of water to Athos.
> 
> "Meaning that Louis is now in the Bastille?" she whispered, clenching her teeth a little as the tugging began.
> 
> Aramis nodded silently. "The King is back in the palace and a cover story is being created as we speak. I need to ride to the palace tonight and speak with him and his mother."
> 
> A thought struck her. If D'Artagnan was indeed the man who fathered both Louis and Philippe, that meant that Queen Anne was still their mother...the two had been lovers. It was a scandalous thing to know about your uncle, that he, who was entirely devoted and loyal to his country and his King, had allowed himself to perform one of the most treasonous acts possible by falling in love with the Queen. And it wasn't merely feelings that he had experienced with her, but the two of them had actually established a relationship that went above and beyond Queen and musketeer. Katherine wasn't certain of how she felt about that, but could not condemn either of them for falling in love. In truth, it was said that the old King had paid precious little attention to his bride when she had first arrived from Austria and had taken a few lovers of his own over the years. Apparently, not all of them had been women either...but that in itself was merely a rumour that could never be proven or disproven now that he lay in his grave. And since Louis and Philippe were the only known children ever to come from the old King, that made them the sole heirs to the throne.
> 
> Though she supposed that they were not truly his sons after all.
> 
> Aramis sat himself on the far end of the cot and gently nudged Katherine's body until she lay on the opposite side, her head resting in her father's lap as her eyes continued to look over at D'Artagnan's motionless body. None of them had yet changed out of their old uniforms, she noticed, which meant that sleep was not yet in the cards for them either. She flinched as Athos began pressing against the gash on her side, closing her eyes tightly while Aramis began to gently stroke her hair and cheek in an effort to soothe her.
> 
> "What are you going to tell them?" she wondered aloud, breathing slowly as she did.
> 
> Aramis thought for a moment. "I'm not sure yet. I need to tell them that D'Artagnan is still alive...for now. And we must discuss what is to be done with the prisoner in the Bastille." Even now that they were safe within the walls of the monastery and no longer being hunted by the musketeers, Aramis knew it was not safe to discuss the fact that Louis was the prisoner of which he spoke. They needed to secure Philippe to his new position of power and begin teaching him the very things that Louis had known for years. Their task was not going to be an easy one, but it had been the very thing they had vowed to undertake when they had initially planned to swap the twins around. "I do not believe that the Queen will allow him to remain there for too long."
> 
> "He deserves to stay there," she said through grit teeth, anger burning in her stomach again. "For what he's done to his people, and to D'Artagnan."
> 
> "Hush," Aramis ordered gently as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Now is not the time for you to waste your energy on such feelings. You were wounded at the Bastille, and now you need to rest." His hand continued to move gently over her cheek as he soothed her anger, watching as her eyes grew heavy and began to close.
> 
> "I cannot leave him," she whispered, dozing off a little despite herself.
> 
> The old man couldn't help but smile, glancing over to where his friend was nearly finished dressing her wound. "I shall not move you, and when you wake, you may stay with him. He would feel safe in your hands."
> 
> The thought brought a small smile to her lips as Katherine finally allowed her head to drop and her mind to fade away from the events of the evening, bringing her into a darkness that was comforting and welcome to her exhausted body. With her breathing finally growing even, Aramis gently slipped himself out from beneath her and waited for Athos to pull the side of her shirt down again before he covered her smaller body with a blanket.
> 
> "I do not know what we have ever done to deserve her," the priest whispered softly with a glance upward at his two friends. "But if anyone can bring him back from the brink of death-"
> 
> "It will be our Kate," Porthos finished with a smile of his own.
> 
> Athos nodded his agreement, looking down at her for a brief moment before he turned away. "If we must go to the King...we should perhaps rest for a while and make ourselves look presentable." A chuckle sounded from Aramis as he reached forward to clap his friend on the back and headed for the door, not wanting to disturb the peace that had taken over the room. Yes, if anyone could help perform a miracle, it was their Kate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter X**

> "You cannot leave us now."
> 
> It was late afternoon when Katherine had finally risen from her cot to find herself covered in a blanket and alone with D'Artagnan in the infirmary, none of them others in sight. She'd risen gingerly from her place and tucked the corner of her shirt back into the top of her skirt before she folded the blanket and began moving about again, this time with a little more ease than she had felt the previous night. His bandages had been removed and his wound cleaned before she had dressed it again and resumed her place by his side. This time however, she sat on the very edge of the cot and held his hand in her lap, finding that her knees did not wish to lower her much further after the time she had spent praying already. Instead she simply sat there, brushing her thumbs over the back of his hand as her blue orbs looked at him sadly. Still he had not stirred, though the signs of life in his chest remained, and Katherine was beginning to worry that he might never wake.
> 
> "Papa and the others still need you," she murmured softly. "Philippe still needs you. How can you expect him to be King without you there to guide him?"
> 
> And what about me, she added as a silent afterthought. There was still so much that he could teach her, so much for him to explain about his way of life and how things looked from his view of the world. His stories had never failed to fascinate her as she grew and allowed herself to consider the possibilities of the future. And despite her foolish dream of one day serving as a musketeer to the King, he had always been supportive of her desire to do something meaningful with her life, knowing as well as she did that she was not meant for the quiet life that her father chose to lead within the walls of the monastery. Her spirit was far too wild for such a place.
> 
> Pressing her lips briefly against the back of his hand, Katherine straightened again and looked at his pale features, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his cheek. "Sometimes I think you are a fool to be as devoted as you are," she admitted, touching his brow. "You spent the whole of your life wanting to be a musketeer...only to be harmed by the one you intended to protect with your life when you took your oath."
> 
> His skin felt cool against her hand despite the warmth of the room and the heavy blankets she had piled onto him in an effort to retain any heat from his body. But he was still breathing, which was enough of a miracle alone for the girl to send her thanks upward in silent meditation. As she cradled his hand in her own, gently squeezing his fingers from time to time, Katherine couldn't help but allow her mind to wander back to the events of the night before, trying to piece together what exactly had happened to them all. It felt almost like a dream now, something she had experienced in another lifetime or place that didn't seem all together real. They had been hunted down by the King of France, who attempted to murder his own brother in cold blood before the man who had saved his life repeatedly in the past had become the target of his dagger. Even now, she could still see it as if it were happening at a much slower pace, leaving her absolutely helpless to have stopped it.
> 
> Her eyes shot up as she heard someone approach the door of the infirmary, heavy boots sounding their arrival as the oak door was pushed aside to reveal her father's form with his hat in hand. "Katherine, I need you to step outside with me for a moment."
> 
> The tone of voice that he used was rather even, but almost commanding at the same time, which gave Katherine reason to pause and raise a brow. "I will not leave him, Papa."
> 
> The old musketeer stared at his daughter for a moment before giving a resigned sigh and moving further into the room, approaching the cot on which both of his loved ones rested. He held his hat formally in his hands, something she noticed right away but did not yet question. There was a reason for his wanting to remove her from the room, and while she was not pleased with his feeble attempt, she could not ignore his order completely. "The King has summoned you to the palace. He and the Queen wish to conference with us, and it was requested that you also be in attendance."
> 
> Her mouth fell agape as she looked up at Aramis with an expression of shock and confusion, breathing a heavy sigh before she shook her head. "You must have heard incorrectly, Papa," said the young girl swiftly, her grasp tightening around D'Artagnan's hand a little. "I am no one. There is no reason for the King to want to see me because I have done nothing to warrant his attention."
> 
> But underneath it all, her heart began to pound a little. If Louis had truly been replaced by Philippe, then what could he possibly want with her? Katherine was nothing more than a common girl who had stubbornly refused to let her father and uncles ride off into death and leave her alone in the world. She had been of no help in his rescue, save for the slaughter of one man who might have attempted to take his life, and then fled with the broken body of his father in the middle of the night.
> 
> "I am not yet so old that I cannot hear when my King commands me," came Aramis' steady reply, grasping his wrist with his free hand as he leaned back into his stance. "We are to be there in the morning." He could see the desire to defy the King's orders in her eyes as she sat beside his friend, but he knew that she would never dare refuse aloud. Despite his initial desire for her to remain a quiet member of the monastery, Aramis was all too aware of the fact that Katherine wanted to be a musketeer to protect her King and country the way that he and the others had done in their youth. And while the issue of her gender made it impossible for that to occur, there was still a fiery spirit in her that chose not to accept this as her fate just yet.
> 
> "Go..."
> 
> The whisper of a single word caused a gasp to pass through her lips and the girl to fall from the side of the cot to her knees on the floor, pressing her body as close to him as she could get. His fingers tightened a little around her hand as he turned his head, evidently worn despite his unconscious state for the past several hours. "Uncle," she breathed, bringing his hand to hold against her heart.
> 
> "God be praised," whispered Aramis as he crossed himself and approached the side of the bed. "You gave us quite a fright, old friend."
> 
> D'Artagnan gave a weak chuckle and looked upon them both with a slight twinkle in his eye, a sign of his old self making an appearance. "Did you really think I could leave you all in this mess?"
> 
> Aramis smiled, "It would not be the first one we had to get out of without you." His eyes then turned to Katherine, who continued to kneel silently at his side as tears began to roll quietly down her cheeks and she pressed her lips tightly together to prevent any of her sobs from sounding.
> 
> But, in his usual manner, D'Artagnan saw right through the child and offered her a tiny smile. "It is alright, _ma petite._ I am here."
> 
> Hearing his affectionate nickname for her proved to be too much for the girl as Katherine leaned forward and pressed her face lightly against his shoulder. He could feel her wet tears against his skin and turned his head a little more, allowing his face to brush against the softness of her hair. "I thought I was going to lose you," she sobbed quietly, shoulders quaking slightly. "I thought I had failed to save you."
> 
> D'Artagnan closed his eyes, breathing steadily for the first time since his body had absorbed the shock of the attack. "One day, I shall have to leave you. But today is not that day. You could never have failed me." 
> 
> As her fingers still held onto his hand from before, he did his best to gently tighten his hold on her for a brief moment before he had to allow his body to relax because of the pain he was in. There was a dominant throb in his back from where Louis' dagger had broken the skin, and he noticed now that all he wore on the upper half of his body were a number of blankets that had been put across him and tucked in as tightly as one could manage. Now slightly confused, the captain lifted his head a little and looked around the unfamiliar room with a frown. 
> 
> "We're back at the monastery," Aramis explained. "Katherine had you brought here right away."
> 
> "And I pray you forgive me for what I had to do, Uncle."
> 
> There was a slight trace of begging in her tone as she knelt beside him, lifting her head to kiss the back of his hand and hold it firmly against her heart. "I could not see your wound through your uniform." 
> 
> He knew immediately what that must have meant. The old uniform he had chosen to wear to the Bastille that night was no longer in the same condition he had kept it in since the colour was retired. He had not yet seen what had been done to the material, but in his mind he could imagine just how tattered it would now appear after being subjected to her desperate attempts to remove it from his broken body. It hurt a little, to think that the uniform was no longer something he could wear with pride, but D'Artagnan hid his silent grief as he looked over at Kate, breathing slowly.
> 
> "It does not matter," he told her simply. "It was but a piece of cloth."
> 
> The brunette shook her head a little, hanging it guiltily. "Papa and the others kept their uniforms for the same reasons you did. And I destroyed it. I know how much it meant to you."
> 
> But D'Artagnan would not allow such negative feelings to be had about the uniform, and shifted himself slightly on the cot with grit teeth to bring Katherine's hand to his own lips before he lay it against his heart. "You saved my life, _ma petite._ That is a debt I can never repay."
> 
> He held onto her hand for a moment. "Now," he began slowly, his voice a gentle whisper. "If the King has summoned you to court, then you must go. It is your duty to serve him in anyway that you can, especially while I am here and unable to do so."
> 
> The stubborn look returned to her eyes as she frowned, staring down at him as her blue eyes met his own. "I will not leave you alone in here until you are able to leave," she vowed. "I promised His Majesty that I would see you well again."
> 
> Digesting this for a moment, she could see how his eyes betrayed his thoughts and the hope that now shone brightly in them. She could only assume that he had known about the desire to switch the twins around, and thus was aware that Louis was no longer in power without having to be told. Still, she could tell that he was busy thinking of what to say to her next. That always was his way, she had come to realize. D'Artagnan never spoke without first considering what his words were and the impact they would have once delivered.
> 
> "I should not want you to break your word to your King," he began, looking up at her. "Nor can I allow you to disregard his command. If I would be the reason for you to refuse, then I shall accompany you to the Palace tomorrow."
> 
> Everyone seemed to freeze at this announcement, with Aramis sharing a rather surprised look with Katherine before they both turned their attention down to the body who moved so painfully upon his cot. "You are not funny, Uncle," Katherine told him shortly, allowing herself to rise from her knees and stand at her full height as she rested his hand back at his side. "You are in no condition to move anywhere, least of all on a journey to the Palace."
> 
> The very idea was absurd! D'Artagnan was fortunate to have survived his wound at all, and he was still in danger of contracting another illness while his body attempted to make itself whole again. Moving him would be foolish, absolutely foolish.
> 
> "I shall not be the reason that you ignore the King's wish for your presence," he replied, shifting on his cot as he struggled to try and adjust his arms. "Nor shall I ever forgive you if you use me in such a manner."
> 
> Now she was torn and looked helplessly at Aramis for some kind of way out. She had sworn to Philippe that she would save his father's life if there was a way for her to do so, but now that very same man was threatening her with the worst possible thing he could think of and forcing her to do something else completely. With both arms moved and pressed down, D'Artagnan began the struggle to force his body upright, which he only achieved with the help of Katherine and Aramis on either side of him. The blankets previously covering his chest quickly slipped further down his body as he moved until at last he was hunched forward and panting from the exertion. As Katherine sat herself back on the edge of the cot to keep him supported against her shoulder, Aramis grabbed the blanket that she had folded earlier and threw it around him in an effort to keep him warmer.
> 
> "No one will forgive me for allowing you to do this," she murmured, wrapping her arms gently around his muscled chest. "You still should not be moving." Katherine could feel the heavy breathing in his chest as he leaned into her body, turning his head slowly until it came to rest against her neck and brushed her hair. There was no way of fooling anyone into thinking that he had strength enough to do this.
> 
> "She is right, D'Artagnan," Aramis told his friend in an effort to be the voice of reason. "You are fortunate to be alive at all. A journey to the Palace in your condition may very well endanger your life." 
> 
> The stubborn musketeer breathed a heavy sigh, gently shaking his head against the soft skin of her neck. "My son..."
> 
> Katherine closed her eyes against the stabbing pain she felt in her heart at those two words, trying to push them from thought. Of course he would want to see the son whom he had saved from death, having only just learned that the poor boy existed. It seemed only natural that he would wish to return to his duties as soon as possible, eager to fill the role that he had never properly been able to fill for his own flesh and blood. He had been around Katherine growing up, of course, but she was not his daughter. She could never hope to sit in that place in his heart, a space reserved for the children that he had helped to create.
> 
> "Send word to His Masjesty that I will come at his request," she told her father softly as she looked up with saddened eyes. "Do not mention his father."
> 
> Removing her arms from his chest and back, Katherine slowly slid off of the cot and rose to her feet before she took a moment to smooth her skirts. She turned briefly to both men and gave them a small curtsey with a bow of her head, turning to leave the room entirely.
> 
> "Kate," D'Artganan called to her.
> 
> "I will pack what we require for the journey."
> 
> Without looking back she spoke to them, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. And before he could call out to her again, she hurried out the door and down the corridor, leaving the two men alone together in the infirmary. D'Artagnan sighed softly, trying to ease his body into moving just enough to erase the stiffness from his joints.
> 
> "I feel as though I have upset her," he said, turning his head a little to look up at Aramis. "And yet I don't know how I managed to do it."
> 
> Aramis gave a small shrug and bowed his head, resting on the edge of the opposite cot as he folded his hands together. "You cannot expect her to be happy that you are coming," he said reasonably as he lifted his head a little. "Katherine has seen a great deal of pain and misery in the time that she has lived here with me, but never have I seen her so afraid of something as she was when she thought that she was going to lose you."
> 
> None of the four men who were part of her life had any kind of blood connection to the child who had been left on the steps of the monastery twenty years ago, but it was no secret that she regarded them as her family, and they saw her in the same light. Even when Athos and his late wife had welcomed Raoul into the fold a few years before, the aging musketeer had come to love her like his own. Porthos, who had never allowed himself to love just one single thing before in his life, had instantly become attached to the tiny babe that bewildered him so.
> 
> And to think, it had all started because one of the younger priests had found the child at their door, wrapped tightly in a thick woolen blanket and crying her little heart out at being alone. He'd once said it was a moment of weakness that had allowed him to take the child into his arms and not send her away to an orphanage, but now he knew that he too had fallen in love with the little girl.
> 
> "She loves you," came the simple explanation. "As a daughter should love her father, she loves you."
> 
> "You have always been the father figure for her, Aramis," D'Artagnan said with a dismissive wave of his hand before he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "She cares for you far more than anyone else in all of France."
> 
> A small chuckle sounded deep in the throat of the priest, who looked at his friend with twinkling eyes. "You really are blind sometimes, my friend. Katherine may call me 'Papa,' but she would have done exactly as you did for Philippe if ever she saw that one of the four of us was in danger. Of this, I am absolutely sure."
> 
> The idea of Katherine putting herself in front of death for his sake was a feeling that did not sit well with D'Artagnan, who frowned at the very thought. That was not the way that the world worked at all. It was a father's job to risk his life to spare his children, and not the other way around. Sometimes he thought that she didn't see it, but in the years that he had spent watching over Louis, whom he had secretly known to be his son, his love for Katherine had taken full control of his heart on numerous occasions. He knew that she didn't always see it, especially now that she had grown into such a head-strong young woman who seemed to insist that she did not require the same attentions as before. Still, he loved her dearly.
> 
> "I know she is displeased, but she must go if Philippe wishes for her to be in attendance when you speak," he said, groaning lightly. "And I cannot allow her to remain here to tend to me."
> 
> Concern grew evident in Aramis' aging face as he rose, gently pressing on D'Artagnan's shoulder until he had lain back down on the cot and readjusted the blankets around him. "I suggest you rest," he somewhat ordered. "We shall be leaving in the early morning...and the journey will be slow in order to accommodate your condition. Katherine will worry enough as it is."
> 
> Giving a small nod in agreement, D'Artagnan closed his eyes and allowed his head to lay back against the pillow, his body slowly being overtaken by exhaustion. "At least she will go," he murmured. "That is all that matters."
> 
> Aramis said nothing as he continued to watch over his friend for a few more moments, contented with the fact that he had drifted off into a restful sleep. All the signs pointed toward him being out of danger for the time being, though he was not thrilled with the idea of moving him so soon after the encounter at the Bastille. To a man with a great sense of honour and devotion like D'Artagnan, it would be important for them to be present when summoned by the King at court. But for Katherine, Aramis knew that her primary concern would not be the meeting she was supposed to attend. It would be the man who would cause her a great deal of heartache before it was all over. 


	6. Chapter 6

> "Athos, Porthos and Aramis!"
> 
> The heavily decorated doors of the audience chamber were pulled aside to reveal the three men in their newly cleaned uniforms, looking every inch to be the musketeers they had once been. Together they moved forward into the room, walking proudly along the carpet until they reached the end of it and knelt a little unsteadily before the throne. All of them held their hats in their hands, pressed firmly against their hearts as they bowed their heads in reverence to their sovereign who waited until the door was firmly shut behind them before he made to move toward them.
> 
> "Please, do not wish to see you on your knees," Philippe said quickly as he held out his hands to help first Athos, then Aramis and Porthos back to their feet. "I owe the three of you my life as a man before I do as a King."
> 
> None of them immediately spoke, but turned their bodies slightly and bowed to the other powerful presence in the room, the older woman who had sat beside her son on a slightly lower chair. "My lady," they chanted together.
> 
> Queen Anne was still a rather strikingly beautiful woman, though the lines of her age were beginning to appear on her face as well. She looked much like she had the previous night at the masquerade that Louis had hosted to lift his spirits, with her dark locks hanging down around her shoulders and an elaborate gown gracing her figure. Of course, it wasn't as vibrant in colour as it had been before, but a rather simple design of blue and black that really brought out the depths of her eyes as she smiled down at all three men.
> 
> "You are most welcome here," she said in her heavy accent. "For saving my son and bringing peace to our kingdom."
> 
> The three of them kept their heads bowed to her for a moment before Aramis stepped forward, his eyes still downcast. In a slightly more graceful movement than before he was down on his knee before her. "I once did something terrible by taking the second of your twin sons from you, allowing you to believe that he had not survived his infancy." Anne looked over at Philippe with a look that told all about those horrible years they had been separated, having learned the truth only when he was sixteen and to be imprisoned in the Bastille by his brother so that he could never attempt to take the throne away from him. "And now I come to beg for your forgiveness. I have done my best within those years to cleanse my soul in all of the ways that I know how, but I know that nothing will save me from my sin now except perhaps your pardon."
> 
> He had asked for her forgiveness once before, when she had gone to confession and he had managed to take the place of her usual priest. But in that moment, he had merely attempted to tell her what was being done without directly putting her life in danger, and had so asked for her forgiveness without really having received it. Now it was his turn to beg quietly for her pardon, for a soft word that would tell him that he was indeed lifted of his sin in the eyes of his Queen. And the response he sought came in a slightly un-customary fashion as Anne glanced toward her son and slowly lowered herself a little to touch Aramis' shoulder, beckoning for him to rise.
> 
> "You have that, and so much more," Anne told him gently, offering him a smile when he had fully risen to his feet once again. "But I see that there are only three of you present. I thought there was another who aided in your rescue," she said, looking back toward Philippe with a look of curiosity.
> 
> Athos was quick to step forward. "If your Majesties will permit, she is here, just outside that door." He gestured off to the side, to a door that was not commonly used by people who appeared before their King for an audience. It was a place that saw far less use.
> 
> But it seemed that that was not the most interesting fact to Queen Anne, who turned to look at them all in turn. "She?"
> 
> "Yes, my lady, my daughter," Aramis said as he shifted his weight between his feet a little. "Twenty years ago a child was found on the steps of the monastery where I was expecting to live when I retired from the musketeers. I cannot explain why I did not have her sent away to live in an orphanage, but I adopted the girl and she has been a part of our lives ever since then."
> 
> Still Anne looked a little confused, digesting that it was in fact a woman who had accompanied the four men to the Bastille that night to save her son from wrongful imprisonment. "And you allowed her to head into such a dangerous place?"
> 
> This time it was Porthos who took a small step forward, attempting to spare any kind of shame that Aramis might feel as he reflected on the circumstances of the rescue. "The girl grew up around us, milady, and I'm afraid that she has since picked up several of our personal qualities because of that. She was the one who lead the musketeers away from the monastery...and she would not be left behind."
> 
> So, she was not actually a child of his creation, Anne thought to herself as she looked down at Aramis with a small smile. And yet he seemed to regard this child as being one of the most important things in his life, to which she could relate. Despite his misgivings, the Queen still loved Louis dearly because of the fact that she had delivered him into this world, and had been willing to overlook many of his negative points as she had felt it was her job as a mother to do. Now that she finally had Philippe back in her life, Anne was slowly beginning to feel pride for the very first time, which was something she wished she could have shared.
> 
> "I would very much like to meet this young woman." A simple look over at Philippe was all that was needed before he was clapping his hands to have the doors opened once again, an order that his servants were quick to obey. But as they parted to reveal who stood on the other side, both Anne and Philippe gasped in shock.
> 
> Standing as straight as her body would allow with the extra weight on her shoulder, Katherine stepped forward slowly and guided D'Artagnan with her through the doors and into the large audience chamber. One of his strong arms was thrown over her shoulder as he moved with obvious pain, her other hand resting firmly against his chest in order to keep him upright. For her part, Katherine was so focused on helping him approach the throne that she didn't dare lift her eyes from his face, shifting her body only slightly as each light tread of her foot carried them further and further into the room. His face was still a ghostly white, his teeth grit against the pain that ran rampant through his body with each movement. Only when she heard a soft sob from up ahead did she dare to turn her head for a brief moment and then lower her eyes just as quickly in the presence of the King and his mother.
> 
> "Your Majesties," she murmured, giving a small bob so that D'Artagnan did not have to move any more than necessary.
> 
> "Why is he here? He can barely stand!" came Anne's horrified voice as she clenched Philippe's arm tightly.
> 
> "Do not be upset with her, my lady," D'Artganan said lightly in his gruff voice, trying to adjust his stance a little against Katherine's body. "Her concern for my life would have kept her from coming at the King's command, and I could not allow that to happen."
> 
> Aramis stepped toward them, offering his own support to his weakened friend before he addressed his monarch. "Your Majesties," he began. "May I present my daughter, Katherine."
> 
> Again she offered them a bob of a curtsey, keeping her eyes downcast out of respect to help make up for the fact that she could not make proper deference to Philippe and Anne. But before anyone else could speak, Katherine made her voice heard. "If it please Your Majesty, my Uncle is still incredibly weak and cannot be on his feet for too long."
> 
> She could feel D'Artagnan's eyes on her, clearly displeased at the idea of his body showing weakness to both his son and his lover, but he dared not rebuke her in front of them. That would surely come later when they were alone again, since she had refused to let him stay in a room without allowing her to attend to him. He was not pleased to know that his niece would have ignored an order from her King...but nor had he had a chance to properly speak to Katherine since the moment that he had awoken back in the infirmary. He knew there was something going on in her head that had distanced her from him emotionally for whatever reason. He just didn't know what the cause was.
> 
> Royal decorum seemed to prevent Anne from running toward him the way she had in the past during their stolen moments together, but her eyes betrayed every possible emotion that she could have upon seeing her lover alive. "This way, please," Philippe said hurriedly, offering his mother a hand with which to guide her into the tiny room that had been prepared for their arrival. Already Katherine could feel him growing unsteady on his feet and was grateful for the hand that Aramis had leant in order to move D'Artagnan into the next room. Six tall wooden chairs sat around a small table, the chair for the King evident by its elaborate decoration and plush seating, while the others were cushioned a little more simply. She did not wait to be instructed, but knew enough of courtly procedures to help settle D'Artagnan slowly into the chair that sat on the left side of the King, trying to make the transition as easy as possible as her hands firmly grasped his forearm and lowered him into it. A sigh of relief sounded from his lips as he began to relax a little, still white against the pain of the wound that would need to be examined again in a short while. Athos, Porthos and Aramis all moved around the table and stood before their chairs, waiting patiently as Philippe helped his mother into the chair to the right of his own. Only then did he turn back to Katherine, who had since taken a place of kneeling on the floor beside her Uncle with one of his hands held tightly in her own.
> 
> "Please," he said gently to her as he gestured to his chair. "Sit here."
> 
> But Katherine quickly shook her head, daring to allow her eyes to rise a little to meet those of her King. "I thank you, Your Majesty, but pray not concern yourself with me," she asked, resting back on her heels. "I am content to remain where I am most needed." Despite her short sentence, her words seemed to have an impact on the room. It had not really been an order, but a kind offer that Philippe had spoken to her, which she had refused by insisting that she was happier to settle herself on the floor beneath the rest of them. Aramis looked at his daughter with a raised brow, wondering what it was that had prompted such words, and so Katherine continued. "I mean no disrespect," she continued slowly. "But I am a simple girl. I have no place in a palace such a this...and I made a promise the other night that I am bound to keep out of love."
> 
> She dropped her eyes quickly, turning back to look upon her uncle as he slowed his breathing down to a much steadier state of being. There was a small sound of rustling that came from beside her and caught her attention, causing Katherine to look up directly into the face of Queen Anne, who held a cushioned stool in her hands. "Then I pray you at least accept this," she said with a gentle smile. "To spare your knees from kneeling so long."
> 
> The girl found herself rather speechless as the Queen gazed down at her with the kindest eyes she had ever before seen, having risen from her own place to offer the little foot stool that was placed in the room for her comfort. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
> 
> Content that her gift had been accepted, Anne allowed the stool to transfer from her hand into Katherine's before she turned back and resumed her place in her chair. There was another moment of the girl being clearly stunned at having been addressed by the Dowager Queen of France in such a relaxed manner before she set it as close to D'Artagnan's chair as possible and resumed her post of watching him. The stool was not very high and barely permitted her to see over the table, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. If anything, Katherine wished that she had not allowed anyone to talk her into coming to court, where she felt completely out of place and plain, especially in the presence of a woman as great as the Queen. She lead a rather modest lifestyle back in the monastery with clothing that couldn't have been further from appropriate to being seen at court. And for someone who really hadn't put much thought into her appearance before, Katherine was suddenly rather conscious of the fact that she was dressed in a simple brown skirt, a blouse of white and shoes with no heel on them. She wore no jewellery no fancy hat or sashes. There was absolutely nothing about her that stood out at all, except perhaps the way in such she seemed glued to the side of the captain of the King's musketeers.
> 
> And those eyes. Those startling, blue eyes...
> 
> Realizing that the conversation had been closed, Philippe motioned for the others to take their seats and leaned back into his own chair, looking around the table with ease. He was among friends now, people that he trusted with his life. Even the girl who sat below him, the one he knew absolutely nothing about, had proven to be a friend when she had gone into the Bastille with her father and uncles in order to save the life of a complete stranger. "First, I want to thank you, all of you," he said with a glance toward Katherine and D'Artagnan, "for all that you have done for me. You have saved me from the Bastille twice now, and the other night you kept me alive." None of them spoke, merely listening to the words of praise that their King offered to them all to show his gratitude for his new position in life. "And I owe you for reuniting me with my mother," he added with a glance back at Anne, who smiled brightly from her chair. "Because I now know that I am no longer alone in this world as I thought I was. I have a purpose now...a way in which to use my life to serve other people."
> 
> D'Artagnan shifted a little in his chair as his eyes finally opened and his head turned to look at Philippe, a great sense of pride burning within the depths of the blue orbs. And while his hand still held tightly to Katherine's, she knew that he was looking up at this son and over toward the boy's mother with a look that she would never have seen before in his face. Again she felt that ripple of some untold emotion hit her stomach with vicious force, but she continued to keep her silent post at her uncle's feet. She did not yet trust herself to speak again in the presence of the King, nor even around the Queen Mother. There were just too many things going through her mind at that moment for her to truly focus on something more than just making sure that a certain someone was still alive.
> 
> "It gladdens my heart to hear you speak such words, Your Majesty," Aramis said in his gravelly voice from across the table. "For many years, we dreamed of serving a King who would bring peace to his people and be there to listen to their voices of pain and hunger. And now, for the very first time since your father was our ruler, I believe that France will have exactly that."
> 
> Philippe smiled, his chest breathing a small smile of relief. "I am glad."
> 
> Silence fell between them all as they allowed the moment to settle in, each casting glances around the table to see what the others were thinking at that moment. "Now," Philippe started slowly. "I asked you all here for the purpose of discussing what we should do in light of recent events. I do not wish for my brother to remain in the Bastille for the rest of his life." Katherine bit her tongue, wincing a little as she did so.
> 
> "What do you propose we do with him?" Athos asked, his voice far more even in tone than Katherine would have thought it would be.
> 
> "He caused a lot of pain when he was on the throne," Porthos chimed in. "And setting him free would make him a danger to you."
> 
> D'Artganan's hand tightened a little around Katherine's, prompting the girl to look up at him in concern as she placed her other hand on his arm in an attempt to soothe him, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. Without even having spoken, she knew that he would not like the idea of Louis being inside the Bastille at all, despite the fact that the boy had nearly caused his death. Nor would he be alright with the idea of just letting him wander free in France, since he would be the biggest threat to the throne that Philippe would encounter.
> 
> "Which is why I wish for your council," Philippe nodded with a look to the four musketeers. "And why I wish for you to be present," he added to his mother. "Because this is not something I can decide for myself when it is not only my life he would come after."
> 
> There was a weight in his words that seemed to startle them all as they considered the truth behind them. Of course, Philippe was definitely the one who would be in the greatest danger if Louis were ever to find a way in which to come forward with his claim, but it would not solely be him that would become a target. Aramis...Athos...Porthos...D'Artagnan...they would all be looked upon as the enemy. Even Katherine, as a woman who had dressed herself in a boy's clothes in order to accompany them to the Bastille, would likely be someone that Louis would seek revenge upon if ever he came across her in the future, Aramis thought to himself in a bit of a panic. But perhaps not, for her clothing had helped to disguise her a little and she had not been all that close to him for a long period of time. Maybe there was a chance that she would be safe. Still, he was not entirely willing to take that risk on her life, and so looked up at his King rather quickly.
> 
> "My life would be nothing if he were to seek me out," he stated simply. "But I do not wish for any harm to come to Katherine for her part."
> 
> By now she was growing a little annoyed with their desire to be chivalrous about her, for Katherine had never really been one to like the idea of being saved from danger all the time. "I went because I would not be left to ponder your fate while you threw your lives into danger," she said stubbornly, her eyes locked on Aramis. "You told me what was to come, and I went knowing exactly what was involved. If indeed I am to become a target of revenge, it will be of my own making and no one elses."
> 
> "Kate," D'Artagnan growled softly in warning.
> 
> His tone quickly told the girl to lower her eyes and hold her tongue, which he had never before done to her in such a public manner. But she realized that she had probably overstepped a boundary that she would otherwise revere, and so settled herself back onto the stool with both hands in her lap after her uncle released his hold on her hand. The colour rose in her cheeks and they began to burn a little, knowing that the eyes of the King and Queen Anne were now on her. But she would not apologize, she absolutely refused to do that. There had been nothing wrong with the way she had phrased things, nor had she created any falsehoods in her story.
> 
> "Your Majesty must do as you see fit in this matter," he continued, now addressing Philippe directly. "But I beg that you remember who he is...and all of the wrong that he did to you over the course of your life. I understand if you cannot love him the way that you should, but pray do not become him." He shifted a little in his chair, trying to make himself a little more comfortable and remove some of the pressure that he had placed on his wound by resting against the back of the chair. The movement caught Katherine's eye and quickly brought her gaze up toward him in concern, which he seemed to ignore. She took this as a sign that he was displeased with her and lowered her eyes again, her jaw tight.
> 
> "After what he nearly took away from me, I could only fear becoming such a person," said the King, looking over at D'Artagnan as he swallowed. "Father."
> 
> It was like a knife had been plunged into her own back, that was the only way that Katherine could think of the pain that she felt at that utterance of that single word. The life she had known before had suddenly ceased to exist as another figure came into the place that she had once occupied, knowing that someone else had need of him more than she did now. She dared not move in case one of the others present asked what the trouble was, but she could feel the walls around her heart begin to squeeze terribly and make it a little harder to breathe.
> 
> "I am still here, my son," his low voice promised in an intimate moment between the two.
> 
> "I shall never be able to thank you enough for saving his life," Philippe spoke, his words directed down at Katherine.
> 
> Still the girl did not lift her eyes, but instead allowed the words to come forth in a quiet tone of voice void of any specific emotion. "To let an innocent man die would be a sin in the eyes of God."
> 
> Aramis narrowed his eyes as he glanced across the table at his daughter and her sudden ability to control her tongue. Something was going on, he knew it simply from the fact that she would not lift her eyes to speak to anyone now, which was a trait quite unlike Katherine, who preferred to establish eye contact with everyone so that she could judge the appearance of their eyes. It was said that they were the window to the soul, after all, and as a priest, he often found himself looking at someone's eyes as well to judge their character. Still, he couldn't single her out by asking her blatantly in front of Philippe or the Queen, so he would need to resist the impulse for the time being. And not a moment too soon, for the chimes of the clock could be heard to tell the time as being noon, which meant that he had somewhere he needed to be. Philippe seemed to be thinking along the same lines and rose from his chair, offering his hand out to his mother while the others also rose to their feet.
> 
> "I am afraid that I am now required for other matters," he said simply, giving his mother a smile. "Aramis, if you wish to, you are welcome to accompany us to the chapel." "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said with a bow. "The rest of you are more than welcome to whatever will please you. I've arranged for quarters to be at your disposal for the time that you are here, up the staircase to the right."
> 
> Everyone bowed as Philippe lead Anne out of the room, Aramis bringing up the end of their group before Katherine quickly moved to help D'Artagnan from his chair and resume her place at his side as his support. He grunted a little from the effort of removing himself from the chair and placing his weight back on his unsteady legs, seemingly greatful for the arms that moved immediately to hold him upright.
> 
> "We should get you settled into a room," Katherine said as soon as the King had disappeared from sight.
> 
> "Katherine-"
> 
> "You will need to rest after the journey." Her words were definite, cutting the conversation before it could begin as she started guiding them toward the door. But Athos and Porthos were quick to step toward the pair.
> 
> "Let us get him upstairs and settled," Porthos offered. "You look as if you need to go for a walk."
> 
> Silently cursing that Athos had picked up on something from her, the brunette simply nodded, allowing them to step forward and take control before she slipped out of the way and stepped back to watch them go. When none of them glanced back in her direction, Katherine took that as her cue to go and turned rather sharply toward the stairs, which she climbed with quick feet before she disappeared down the corridor. A moment to herself to collect her thoughts and emotions was exactly what she needed after that brief meeting, her heart and mind seeming to team against her as she struggled to keep her composure.
> 
> "Let her go," Athos muttered under his breath as he glanced over toward his niece, having spotted the look on D'Artagnan's face. "She is carrying something heavy in her heart that she is not yet ready to share."
> 
> Porthos, now curious of what was happening around him, also stole a look toward her retreating back. "How can you tell?"
> 
> Athos hesitated, looking over toward his two friends with a sad look of his own. "Because it was the same look I wore when I lost Raoul and I thought my heart would never be whole again."
> 
> Neither of them seemed to understand as they manouvered the stairs and began the gradual climb up to the rooms that Philippe had set aside for their use. "She will come back," he promised, trying to ease the stress he saw on D'Artagnan's face. "Katherine would never leave anyone else to care for you."
> 
> But the older man was not so easily soothed by words, knowing in his heart that there was something going unsaid. He had immediately regretted the way in which he had spoken to her earlier when he saw the way that she reacted, never having disciplined her in such a manner before. And now she was moving away from him in more than just one way...
> 
> "I will speak to her then," he decided, gritting his teeth as they mounted the stairs as gingerly as possible. "Perhaps she will be ready to tell me what she's holding onto so tightly by tonight."


	7. Chapter 7

> "I don't belong here..."
> 
> She couldn't help the anger that was bubbling inside her at that very moment, her mind too clouded with the violent emotion to do much else but walk blindly through the endless corridors of the palace. The further away from everyone she was right now the better, she thought. None of the others seemed to understand what it was that bothered her so, thinking only that she was perhaps seeking some kind of attention after the role she had played in the events of the Bastille. But that wasn't it, Katherine wasn't just acting up for no reason. That had never been her way.
> 
> The events of the past few days had shaken the poor girl far beyond what she allowed to be seen on the surface, and terror at the very idea at having been in a place as cold and dark as the Bastille was still rampant in her mind. Katherine could still recall the horrible conditions in which so many of the prisoners had been forced to live, without the proper shelter to keep any of them from contracting the smallest of illnesses. There were precious few windows in the prison as well, which meant that while none could look in on the occupants of the Bastille, it also meant that those inside were not able to look at what lay beyond, refused the ability to look for some kind of forgiveness among the stars at night as she had so often done herself. She could only imagine what crimes were punishable by confinement in a place like that. Certainly sharing a face with another human being wasn't one of them, was it?
> 
> And yet she could not help but remember how she had nearly lost D'Artagnan because of that crime, knowing full well that Louis would probably have ordered something far worse for his twin brother if it were not for the fact that he believed them both to share the blood of a royal. In truth they did, though it was not of the same line that he was sure to think it was. Again she found herself confronted with anger, struggling against it as her feet carried her out of the palace and into an adjoining courtyard, finding the pathways that had been groomed for the use of the King. The whole affair was causing her great distress as she went over the details in her mind, unable to comprehend how they had all been dragged into the situation from the very beginning. For the most part she blamed Queen Anne, feeling that the woman must have done something to seduce her Uncle into loving her and thus creating their current troubles in the form of Louis and Philippe. But then she blamed D'Artagnan, who had been foolish enough to allow himself to feel such traitorous thoughts when it came to the one woman he ought not to feel anything more than devotion and loyalty toward. No, she thought to herself, this was Philippe's fault, for if he did not exist than none of this would have occurred...
> 
> A soft sigh fell from her lips as she slowly came to a stop and lowered herself onto the edge of one of the large fountains that sat in the middle of the yard, breathing slowly so as to help clear her mind just a little. She was anxious for D'Artagnan's health, there was no getting around that. She was upset at having been brought to the palace, where so many women before her had come and gone for a price she was not willing to pay. Fingertips lifted and gingerly touched her side, wincing a little as she pressed against the wound still freshly imprinted upon her skin. It was still rather tender, more so than she had hoped it would be after a short while, and it was beginning to nag at her slightly as she progressed through the day. Perhaps she would need to take another look at it, she decided, once she had allowed herself a few moments to gather herself together. The last thing she wanted was to approach anyone while she was still muddled in her thoughts.
> 
> The light tread of approaching boots caught her attention and caused her blue orbs to lift from the ground, fingers dropping away from her side and feet pressing against the grass until she was standing again. From around a hidden corner came a man in uniform, the very uniform she had one day hoped to see on Raoul before he had been sent back to the front lines and killed before he could propose to the woman he loved.
> 
> "I am sorry," the musketeer said gently, removing his hat from his head and sweeping her a bow with it. "It appears that I have startled you, Mademoiselle. Please forgive me."
> 
> He was young, she noted, not as young as Raoul but not yet as old as D'Artagnan. His hair was of an auburn colour, naturally curled and falling around his ears in a shorter fashion than she customarily saw among the King's men. "Startled?" she asked him slowly, tilting her head slightly to give him a look of slight confusion. "Do I appear startled to you, Monsieur?"
> 
> Standing back at his full height, the man replaced his hat atop his head and held his other hand against his sword, looking at Katherine with slight amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Perhaps a little," he said, slowly stepping forward to meet her. "I am not used to meeting anyone out here on my patrols. My name is Tolbert." A hand slowly extended and plucked one of her smaller ones from her side, where he then bent forward at the waist and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles.
> 
> "Katherine," she said slowly, bobbing a curtsey to him when he released his hold on her hand. "And just how did you come to be here, Lady Katherine?" The girl laughed softly. "Just Katherine," she clarified. "My father is currently a guest of the King. And I am afraid that my Uncle cannot be left alone in his current condition, so I suppose I too am here at His Majesty's request."
> 
> Perhaps it was because of the reputation that Louis had once had with women, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but the expression on Tolbert's face did not betray any kind of curiosity or confusion by the presence of the young woman within the palace grounds. If anything, he seemed to keep a rather neutral face that would easily throw anyone off of their game because they could not immediately read whether or not they had managed to gain the upper hand on him. It appeared that her Uncle's training was far more thorough than she had originally thought it would be, though she still held out the hope that she might one day be allowed to find this out on her own accord.
> 
> "Your father?" he asked her, a hint of question in his tone.
> 
> The young woman nodded slowly, brushing a stray piece of her hair back behind her ear and into a more proper place. "Aramis."
> 
> A single word was all it took for there to be a change in his demeanour, a startled sort of look that betrayed his astonishment as having the word "father" associated with his name in anything but a religious manner. His dark eyes widened as he looked at her, his lips parting as if to say something that he could not quite comprehend. But Katherine was rather accustomed to this reaction when it came to the mention of the man she called father, for few people understood that the ageing priest had simply adopted her out of the goodness of his heart and raised her as if she had been his own. It wasn't exactly a common practise among the men of the Church to adopt orphans in such a manner, as most of those children who were found on the doorsteps were quickly dispatched to the nearest orphanage to be cared for with many other children like them. That very well could have been her. And yet Aramis had taken pity on her, for reasons he had never disclosed to her, and allowed her to remain in his care for the past twenty years. He had praised her, scolded her, punished her, taught her...all of the things that a father should do to his child in order to see that they grow up into someone of whom they could be proud. Whether or not she had become that person yet though, Katherine wasn't sure.
> 
> But in Tolbert's defence, he seemed to make a quick recovery from his surprise. "I was not aware that he had a child at all," he said smoothly, offering Katherine another little bow as a small smile lit upon his lips. "Though I would hardly call you a child, Mademoiselle Katherine."
> 
> Her own curiosity took control at that point, causing a slight tilt of her head as she looked at at the young man with a raised brow, a smile perking the corners of her own mouth. "And what would you call me, Monsieur?"
> 
> The words were out before she had a chance to check herself and swallow them again, and Katherine mentally kicked herself for allowing such a foolish question to be released into the open like that. Her father would surely shoot her a disapproving look right now if only he could see her. Tolbert, however, only smiled a little further as he lifted his upper body once again and looked at her with a softened gaze, taking in her face with his dark brown eyes that lurked there beneath the brim of his hat.
> 
> "I would say that you are one of the most beautiful young women I have seen at court in a very long time," he answered gently, causing a flush to rise in her cheeks.
> 
> "Monsieur is too kind-"
> 
> But he brushed her words aside with a wave of his hand. "No. I only speak the truth."
> 
> An awkward silence began to settle in between them as Katherine's cheeks burned even brighter than they had before, too stunned by his compliments to say much in reply. The poor girl was not used to having such attentions paid to her, believing herself to be merely another face that was easily passed in the streets each day. And within the walls of the monastery that she called her home, there were not many young men who could turn their heads in the midst of prayer to cast their eye in her direction. But now was the time in which it was prudent for her to excuse herself from his company, realizing that if anyone else were to happen upon them right now, it would not be appropriate for a young woman who was a stranger to the palace to be seen with one of the King's musketeers and not another woman in sight.
> 
> "I should perhaps return to my apartments now," she said quickly, looking back from where she had initially come. "I fear that if I do not return soon my Uncle Athos will shortly come looking for me."
> 
> In an instant the smile had vanished from his face and a wide-eyed looked replaced it as he registered the name in his mind and frowned a little when it seemed to settle in. His reaction was one that startled Katherine. "Athos?" he demanded quickly, a frown forming on his face.
> 
> "Yes," she nodded, not understanding his reaction. "Is something the matter?"
> 
> But he was almost ignorant to the fact that she had even spoken now, his face turned slightly away from hers as he battled with his own internal thoughts. "I am afraid my duties require me elsewhere. Good day, Mademoiselle." With a touch of his hat he had turned on his heel and disappeared around the same corner from which he had initially appeared to her, leaving Katherine to stand in the courtyard on her own with a look of absolute confusion on her features. She hadn't seen such a reaction like that before when it came to the mention of Athos, despite the fact that he had grown increasingly more protective of her since the death of his son and often times refused to let her go anywhere without his presence.
> 
> Tolbert had moved away so quickly that Katherine could not part her lips in time to ask what it was that bothered him so at the mention of a name before he had disappeared from sight. A feeling of unease began to overtake her as her eyes remained locked on that spot though, a shiver coursing up her spine. Something felt off about his overreaction...but what was it? Giving her head a bit of a shake, Katherine focused her senses again on her previous motive, which was to return to the walls of the palace. She didn't know how long she had been absent, but she did know that she would need to go and see to things, ensuring that her family was settled into their rooms and that D'Artagnan was wanting for nothing during his stay. Turning slowly, the young woman cast only one more glance over her shoulder before she too retired from the courtyard, her own footsteps carrying her away from the spot of her sudden meeting. Perhaps in time, she would come to understand what that was all about.


	8. Chapter 8

> "Thank you."
> 
> The servant who had appeared with food for him bowed low to the captain of the musketeers before he took the tray and removed himself completely from the room, leaving D'Artagnan alone with his thoughts for a moment. A great many things had happened within the last few days, so much in fact that the poor man was hardly able to keep up with the events as he had done in his youth. Granted, a large part of that would be the fact that he was not overly mobile at the moment thanks to the wound on his back, but part of that would also be attributed to the fact that he was no longer as young as he had once been. And now that things were approaching a whole new horizon line, he struggled to come to terms with some of those changes.
> 
> Propped up against the pillows of the bed, he had allowed his boots to be removed and only those before he had been lain out on top of the blankets, warmed by the fire that filled the room with a comfortable glow. None of the others were with him, for there had been room enough for them all to have a little privacy thanks to Philippe's generosity. Ah, Philippe. D'Artagnan could feel his heart swell with pride as he thought of the son that he had newly found, knowing that despite his absence from the boy's life he had turned out to be a good man after all. And Anne...seeing her again after his experience at the Bastille had renewed his love for her with a fire that refused to be extinguished, made difficult by the fact that they both still had roles to play at court. Still, she now knew that he was alive, and her earlier concern for his well being said that she still loved him just as deeply as he loved her. All that remained now was for them to decide how their lives would continue, whether it was apart and following the rules laid before them or together secretly so that they might be able to find real happiness for the very first time. Even just the idea of such a possibility brought a small smile to his lips, as it was a dream that he had envisioned many times over in the years since he and Anne had crossed than forbidden line and fallen in love. Now there was a chance at it coming true.
> 
> But at what cost, he asked himself. For them to be together, they could not continue to live at court with Philippe. There were far too many people around them constantly for a proper relationship to be established without suspicion, and yet neither of them would be able to leave Philippe alone now, not when they had just found him again. Their circumstances were not looking all together promising, but still he continued to cling to hope. Hope that perhaps something or someone would be able to provide an answer to their plight and finally allow love to be their outcome. After the many years of unhappiness she had suffered during her previous marriage, Anne deserved that much, he thought firmly. The old king had not been cruel to her as far as he was aware, but nor had he been overly kind to his Austrian bride, who somehow managed to find solace in a simple man like himself. If anything, he only wanted Anne to finally have something that she could call her own.
> 
> A gentle knock on the door roused his thoughts and brought him back to the present moment as he watched a familiar figure slip inside and close it lightly behind her. Her eyes were kept down as she moved silently about the room, giving no greeting nor immediately coming to his side as she had done in the past. He had been right to sense that something was wrong, he decided, watching her thin frame gather his boots from the foot of the bed and place them carefully by the fire. She straightened them to stand properly and began to stoke the fire itself, ensuring that there was enough wood there to keep the room warm for him before she rose again and rubbed her hands together gently.
> 
> "Are you not even going to speak?" he asked, shifting a little on the bed.
> 
> Katherine turned herself a little, moving to the chest of drawers by the window as she began organizing his things carefully inside. "I would give you no more reason to be displeased with me, Uncle." Her refusal to look at him was beginning to grow a little more frustrating as the moments passed, causing some of the earlier anxiety at the situation to surface in the old man. When she answered him like that, there really was no room for too many other emotions, not when it came to the dynamic of their relationship and how it had been for nearly twenty years.
> 
> Katherine closed the first drawer and removed the jug of water from the top, moving to set it near the flames of the fire in order to warm it a little before she used it. Then to the table beside the bed she put the bowl and sponge, next to which she lay the cloth that she had been using to dress the wound again to help prevent it from staining the white of his shirts. Approaching the side of the bed, she offered out a hand for him to grab onto and pull himself forward so that he was sitting away from the pillows and in more of an upright position. Her nimble fingers slowly began to undo the collar of his shirt, helping him to slip it off of his body almost completely before Katherine moved herself around to stand just behind him. The binding that she had used earlier came undone with a little more force before she took the cloth from his body and started looking the stab wound over.
> 
> "Does it hurt terribly?" she whispered, feeling her throat tighten a little as she gently traced her fingers over it.
> 
> "Yes...but the pain reminds me that I am still living," he told her, turning his head a little to glance over his shoulder. Again he noticed that she was avoiding his eye as she focused on the task at hand, gently removing the lumps of dried blood from his skin with the material that she had just pulled from his body. Words filtered through his mind as he considered what next to say that might somehow start a conversation between the pair, but nothing seemed to make enough sense without directly asking her why she had grown so distant all of a sudden.
> 
> D'Artagnan opened his mouth to speak again just as Katherine turned away and moved back toward the fireplace, throwing the soiled bandage to its mercy. The sight of her retreating form was beginning to feel a little normal to him now, and he wasn't liking the fact that it had become so. What had happened to the young girl who came to him with everything? What had changed so much over the last few days that she could leave her father at the Bastille out of concern for his life and then proceed to go on as if they were nothing more than strangers?
> 
> "I do not know what I have done to upset you so."
> 
> "I am not upset," she said quickly, returning with the jug to pour the now warmer water into the waiting bowl. A sigh fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to rub down the side of his face, feeling the weariness of the day beginning to creep over his body.
> 
> "Then why do you avoid me as if I am already dead?" The bed beneath him shifted a little when she climbed up behind him and lightly pressed the damp sponge to his back, working on the edges of the wound to first clean the surrounding flesh before she would venture deeper into it. He straightened a little bit when he felt the cool water touch his skin, breathing slowly so as to keep focused with his attempts at coaxing the information out of Katherine in a kinder way.
> 
> "Because it is better for me to play my role now and not risking angering you or Papa further while we are guests of the King."
> 
> Her answer made it all sound so simple, he noted. As if those were the only reasons she would ever need in order to keep her thoughts to herself and her sharp tongue in check, which was not the way that Katherine was. Pain shot through his back as she approached the wound with the sponge and applied a little bit of pressure closer to the puncture mark in his skin, causing D'Artagnan to hiss in discomfort and lean a little further forward to escape the pain.
> 
> In an instant, one of Katherine's arms was wrapped around him in support, her forehead lightly pressed to the back of his shoulder. "Breathe," she reminded him gently, allowing him a moment to regain control before she withdrew her forehead and again pressed to the wound. He was ready this time and exhaled slowly against the burning sensation that coursed through that part of his back, trying to keep himself as relaxed as possible during her ministrations. Closing his eyes and lifting his head a little, he established a slow breathing pattern of inhaling and exhaling to keep himself calm, then moved his arm to softly lay on top of the one she held against his stomach. His fingers closed around her smaller hand and held it captive, reminding himself that he wasn't alone in the pain that he bore despite their current places.
> 
> "How is your side?" he asked her, holding her hand firmly when he felt her stiffen a little against him.
> 
> "Fine," Katherine said shortly as she tried to pull away from him.
> 
> "Katherine-"
> 
> "Uncle, I need my other hand to tie this bandage properly." Again he sighed and released his hold on her, feeling a cool sensation creep over his skin in place of where her arm used to be. He could hear her rip the fabric to the right length and begin to wrap it around him, binding the wound tightly so that nothing else could get into it and cause infection. He had seen it done often enough in his service as a musketeer to understand just how important it was to the healing process. Too many men had died due to infection and poor doctoring. But he was safe in Katherine's hands, of that he was sure, for he knew her better than almost anyone else in the world, save for Aramis.
> 
> "You need to rest now," she instructed, sliding off of the bed and back to the floor as she busied her hands with the contents of the side table.
> 
> "Let me see it," he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm.
> 
> But the girl shook her head. "You need not concern yourself with me, Uncle."
> 
> Not one to be bested, especially now, D'Artagnan wrapped his fingers around her a little tighter and waited until she looked over at him, establishing eye contact for the first time since their arrival. "I was not asking, Kate."
> 
> The girl looked a little startled by the tone of voice that he took with her, much as she had earlier on that day when he had warned her against her choice of words in front of Anne and Philippe. She seemed to hesitate for a moment and simply look at him, unsure of what she should do before a knock on the door sounded and thus spared her from having to make a choice. His gaze was distracted just long enough for Katherine to turn her body out of his grasp and catch sight of the figure who moved elegantly through the door before she was instantly down on a knee, her head bent low. "Your Majesty."
> 
> It had taken her a moment to recognize the face beneath the hooded cloak that she wore, especially since there was no elaborate gown that would identify her as the Dowager Queen either. Instead it was a dress of simple grey that lacked the usual volume of her other dresses, her body void of all jewels as her dark locks hung loose around her shoulders. And the smile she wore as she looked down at Katherine was one of a motherly nature, which only added to the growing discomfort that she felt in the pit of her stomach.
> 
> "Please," the older woman said as she stepped forward and offered Katherine a hand to bring her back to her feet. "I should be at your feet. You have given me back a part of my life I had long thought to be lost." At that her eyes turned slightly to glance over at D'Artagnan, who sat on the bed open-mouthed and still shirtless from before.
> 
> "Anne..."
> 
> Sensing that she was intruding upon a private moment, Katherine bobbed her another curtsey and hurried toward the door without waiting to be dismissed, praying that the Queen had not been followed that night for any reason.
> 
> "Kate." She had half pulled the door aside and paused at the calling of her name, turning slowly to look back at D'Artagnan with the same distant eyes that he had seen before his lover had entered the room. "Our conversation is not over."
> 
> With a quick look out the door, Katherine edged toward it a little more before she looked back, glancing between the two. "Please...be careful."
> 
> There was no time for either to respond before she had slipped out the door and closed the door behind her, leaving them alone. In an instant, Anne had crossed the distance that lay between them and leaned across the bed, claiming his lips in a powerful kiss that instantly sent them into a battle of dominance. He was absolutely breathless from the way that she had attacked him, initially shocked by force with which she had started to kiss him before his body merely accepted her presence and moved to wrap his arms around her tiny waist.
> 
> When at last they parted Anne was seated across D'Artagnan's lap with her own arms wound around his neck, fingers entangled in his hair as both of their chests heaved from the passionate moment they had shared. "I thought you were dead," she whispered sadly, leaning forward to bury her face against his shoulder. "I thought I would never see you again." D'Artagnan for his part simply cradled her as best as he could against his chest, eyes closed as he inhaled her familiar scent.
> 
> His fingers stroked her hair gently in a soothing gesture as he tried to keep himself upright, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "I did not think so either," he began, holding her close. "But God smiled down on me and gave me a second chance. He brought me my son...and he brought me you."
> 
> Anne pulled back slowly from him, allowing her eyes to fully take in his face before she shifted herself in his lap and gently placed a hand against his chest to push him back against the pillows. His own blue eyes were so entranced with having her so close to him again that he did not resist her movements, nor did he complain when she laid herself down beside him, resting her head on his arm. "She saved you." He turned his head a little to look down at her, initially confused by her words and the turn in conversation. Anne in turn lifted her own head a little, tilting her gaze upward until it met with his. "The girl...the daughter of Aramis. She was the one who saved you." He exhaled slowly, lifting his head to fall back against the pillows with a resigned sigh.
> 
> "Yes," he said slowly. "Louis tried to kill Philippe, and I got in the way. The only reason I am still alive is because of Katherine."
> 
> Her fingers gently traced patterns against the bare skin of his chest as her mind wandered back to the night that he had left the red rose for her at the end of the path that lead to her chapel. She had watched him then, absent-mindedly touching her lips as she remembered the last time that they had shared a kiss at the risk of being found out. It had almost felt as if he had been saying his final farewell to her from a safe distance that would not incriminate either of them. But she remembered his uniform as well, the black one that had been worn in the days when her husband had been king before Louis had retired the colour entirely. It was then that she had come to realize that something else was going on.
> 
> "Louis still does not know," Anne whispered softly, pressing her cheek to him. Immediately he understood her words, knowing that there would not have been a chance to tell him the truth of his parentage before he and Philippe were switched. And while D'Artagnan had watched over Louis all his life from afar, he feared what it would mean for Anne if ever the truth were to be told to him, for Louis was a vengeful spirit who thirsted for the blood of others.
> 
> "Perhaps it is better that way," he murmured a little sadly. As much as it would pain him to have a son not recognize him as the father that he was, he knew in his heart that the truth would never be accepted by Louis...nor could anyone else have that knowledge in their hands. It would endanger everyone around him, most especially Anne and Philippe, for their part in that truth. "Louis was raised to believe that he was the son of a King...to have him learn the truth could be fatal for all of us."
> 
> Her eyes closed softly as she breathed deeply for a moment before pushing herself lightly off of his chest. D'Artagnan watched her with questioning eyes as Anne gave him a soft smile. "You need to rest, my love," she whispered, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to his lips. D'Artagnan accepted this without complaint until she pulled away from him and began to move toward the edge of the bed, making to leave the room entirely when he reached up and caught her fingertips.
> 
> "Anne."
> 
> She turned back to him, a little startled at how forward his actions were when compared to their normal encounters. "When will I see you again?"
> 
> The Dowager Queen again smiled down at him, wrapping her fingers around his hand for a brief moment. "I shall never be far, my love."
> 
> Taking this as her silent promise to return to him again soon, he allowed her fingers to gradually slip out of his own and watched as she pulled her hood back over her face yet again before she travelled to the door. There she paused, looking back at him for but a moment before she caught herself and slipped silently away. He could feel his heart pounding where he lay, swelling at having seen her such a short while after his arrival with the promise of more visits to come. His head rolled lightly to the side, his blue eyes looking over toward the flickering flames in the hearth before they closed slowly and D'Artagnan fell into a much needed sleep with a small smile placed on his lips.


	9. Chapter 9

> "What do you expect her to do, Aramis? Come sobbing to you when something is bothering her in the hopes that you can fix everything? She is not a child anymore."
> 
> Aramis closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as Athos spoke to him, knowing his friend to be right, though he didn't care to admit it aloud. Everything seemed to have changed in the days since Philippe's rescue from the Bastille. D'Artagnan was on the mend and being carefully watched by Katherine at all times, and while the three of them were now safe with the knowledge that they need not fear any kind of punishment from their king there was still the issue of his daughter that plagued his mind constantly. The time he had spent in the chapel earlier with Philippe and Anne had been a moment of reflection for the priest, who prayed fervently to God to give him some kind of way to end the madness they seemed to be spiralling into. There had yet to be any kind of response that he could recognize, which had left him to return to his room and begin pacing back and forth across the rug until Athos had come knocking, Porthos in tow.
> 
> "No, she is not," he agreed, dropping his hand away from his nose. "But she is still my child, in whatever sense of the word. And even though she will not talk about it, I know there is something wrong."
> 
> He had raised Katherine from that tiny infant who had been left on his doorstep nearly twenty years ago, ignoring the protests of the other priests that their life was not one intended for a child. There had been something about her that had quickly grabbed Aramis by the heart and held on tightly to it, refusing to let him live another moment of his life without a thought for the babe. Now she was a young woman of twenty, and while most girls were betrothed or married at this age, he could still remember the day that she had come to him and asked not to be placed in an arranged marriage at all. And while he had initially been unsure of how to handle such a request from a girl, he eventually agreed. The old priest gave a soft sigh, slowly rising to his feet again as he resumed his pacing back and forth across the room.
> 
> "You saw it too, Athos. I know you saw it in that meeting with Philippe."
> 
> From where he leaned against the fireplace mantle, Athos knew that he couldn't deny that fact. He shifted his arms and folded them tightly over his chest, glancing over toward Porthos as they both took note of just how slowly Aramis seemed to move about the room. "I saw a great many things in that room," he said almost cryptically, not yet wishing to bring about the topic of D'Artagnan and the Queen. "Including how quickly Kate fell silent because of looks she got from you and the way in which D'Artagnan spoke to her."
> 
> The relationship she shared with each of the four men had been different over the years as they watched her grow, taking on various roles that would help to shape the woman she had become. Aramis had always been the father figure, the one to enforce the use of manners and an importance of prayer so that she would not be lead astray by temptation. Athos had brought Raoul along to be her playmate in their early years, believing that it would be good for the two of them to interact with children closer to their own age and not simply the adults they were otherwise surrounded by. Her ability to love things at a glance had come from Porthos, who had also managed to teach her the importance of knowing how to find joy in the simplest of things without settling for them. But it was D'Artagnan who had first begun instructing the girl to fight with a sword, feeling that her ability to defend herself might one day save her life. and yet, in teaching her that, he also passed on a lesson that he had learned from Athos long ago. Killing was not necessarily the answer to a problem, but an ultimate end if there was nothing else she could do in order to save herself or someone else from suffering an undeserved fate.
> 
> Porthos adjusted his stance a little, glancing between his two friends. "Maybe she is just uncomfortable," he suggested, resting a closed fist against his hip. "She has never been this close to the palace before, and now she's being summoned before a king."
> 
> Had they been discussing almost any other girl, there might have been some sense in his words, Athos thought. The life that Katherine lead with Aramis in the monastery was far simpler than the one that Philippe would now have in the palace, void of material objects and elaborate clothing that would otherwise distinguish a poor girl from a Queen. But of course, they were not talking of just any girl. They were talking of Katherine, the one girl who mattered the most in their lives.
> 
> "We cannot make her tell us what is hurting her," reasoned Athos slowly. "When she is ready to speak, she'll go to someone that she trusts."
> 
> The unasked question now became just who she would turn to when she was ready. She knew just how close the four friends were, and so the chances of her coming to one of them were much lower than they had ever been because she would know that they would discuss it behind closed doors. Not because they wished to share her secrets, but because they loved her dearly and would all wish to find a way in which to help her cope.
> 
> Aramis continued his slow pacing across the room, eyes downcast and staring intently as if the floor itself could offer up a solution to the predicament he now faced. These were the moments he had dreaded as he watched his daughter blossom into a beautiful young woman, knowing that his experiences and skills as a musketeer could not prepare him for the situations he would face as a father. Swords could not help him ease her fears, nor could prayer allow her to open her heart to him if she was intent on keeping something hidden deep within herself.
> 
> "She will not have forgiven Louis for nearly killing D'Artagnan," he spoke gruffly as he came to a stop and tilted his head to look at both men. "And in seeing Philippe she may very well continue to connect the two of them in her mind. She does not know him as we do." It was a bit of a stretch, he admitted to himself, but it was at least something for them to begin building upon.
> 
> Porthos looked confused. "Why would she hate Philippe if she knows nothing about him?" Aramis sighed, scratching his head a little as he continued to think the entire thing through. "I cannot be sure."
> 
> An uncomfortable silence fell upon them as each man pondered the reasons behind such a thing. It was a dangerous thought to have, hating the man who sat on the throne, and while they were all sure that Philippe would do nothing about it if he were to find out, they couldn't help but fear the treasonous thought that probably ran rampant in Katherine's mind. Such thoughts had often prompted people into taking action against the threat that they saw, and very seldom did something like that end well for the person involved. Louis had been ruthless against people who questioned his superiority during his reign, but Philippe was inexperienced and young in comparison. That would put Katherine in a much more precarious position if ever she were to act upon such thoughts. Not even they could risk the safety of Philippe's reign as King of France.
> 
> "What do we do?" Porthos asked quietly, clearly as concerned about the situation as they all were.
> 
> There was no immediate answer, for none of them knew what the answer was. Finding themselves in difficult situations had been a part of their lives for so long that they had grown accustomed to finding a way out of it...but not when the matter was so personal in nature. "We keep this from D'Artagnan," Aramis decided. "At least until he has healed enough to be included." They all nodded in agreement, knowing that such news would come as a terrible blow for the already wounded man. Adding to the strain of his recovery would be heartless on their part. "And we keep a careful eye on everything."
> 
> Plans had been set in motion to help cover up the strange happenings around the castle since the night of the masquerade, beginning with a ceremony that would honour all four men for saving the life of the King from a plot to place an imposter on the throne. Philippe was certain that they would then be able to continue their lives as if nothing had happened at all, ensuring them all to be safe in the future. But until such a ceremony could be had and the ball that followed was over and done with, Aramis would not be able to relax. Only when he and Katherine were back to leading their quiet lives at the monastery and away from the chaos of court would he be secure in the knowledge that all was well.
> 
> "Philippe wishes to have this ceremony as soon as D'Artagnan is able," Athos murmured. "None of us knows how long that may be, for nobody but Katherine ministers to him."
> 
> Aramis nodded, staring into the flickering fire as he searched for some kind of answer. "Let it continue that way, unless either Philippe or the Queen request a change. At least then we shall know what is going on at all times."
> 
> Porthos nodded his head in consent, looking to Athos who followed suit. They were not out of danger yet, he decided, far from it. And until Philippe was secure in his new role as King, the dangers would only continue to pile up until something either laid them all to rest or brought about a suspicion that would rock the throne once again.


	10. Chapter 10

> "From Her Majesty, Queen Anne."
> 
> The servant who appeared before her knelt down on the carpet of her bedroom floor as he offered out the box he carried in his hands to her. She had only newly returned after stoking the fire in D'Artagnan's room to keep him warm when he awoke to find someone knocking on her door with a letter from the Queen in his hand. Before she could speak, he had set the box down before her and risen to offer out the letter, which she took gingerly from his grasp. The servant then gave her a low bow and retreated from the room, leaving Katherine alone to ponder the contents of the box and the reason behind yet another gift from Queen Anne in such a short span of time. With quivering fingers she broke the royal seal that kept the edges of the letter shut together and approached the window, using the coming sunshine to read the carefully written words that were clearly from the Queen's own hand.
> 
> _Again I find that words fail when I wish to express my thanks for the part you have played in recent events. I pray that you accept these as a gift from me for my gratitude, and I am sure that you shall be able to find a use for them in the near future. It would bring me great pride to see you wear them, as I feel the colour would compliment your beautiful eyes rather well._
> 
> _Anne_
> 
> Lowering the letter from her sight, Katherine turned her eyes back to the box she had left sitting on the floor and slowly made her way back toward it. The Queen had signed her letter with simply her first name, disregarding the fact that she had been born far above the position in life that Katherine occupied. She had addressed her so easily the night before, with a gentle ease that one would expect a Queen to possess...and yet without the formalities and courtly restrictions she would have thought to hear. She folded the letter and lay it on the edge of the bed before she knelt down on the floor, moving her skirt to surround her a little as she did. With a moment of hesitation, Katherine finally reached forward and pushed the top of the box out of the way. What she saw inside took her breath away and caused the girl to freeze momentarily where she sat before a hand gently reached forward to stroke the soft damask material on the front of the gown. Subtle accents of silver could be seen to decorate the dark blue colour that the Queen had chosen, for reasons that she still did not understand. Yet Katherine had never seen anything so beautiful in her life, nothing that she had owned anyway. There was no need for such finery back at the monastery.
> 
> So why would the Queen send her such a thing? What possible reason could she have for giving Katherine a piece of such elaborate clothing without having a reason to wear it? Between the shock of seeing something so strange to her eyes and the confusion she felt at having received such a gift, Katherine couldn't bring herself to do anything more than close the top of the box and move herself away from it. Oh God, forgive me, she thought with a glance upward. She lead a simple life and had never needed such things in her life, which she had always thought to be the tools of vanity and outrageous spending. And yet upon seeing it she had felt butterflies appear in the pit of her stomach because she could do nothing be envision how stunning it may look upon her body. That alone was enough of a sin to prompt Katherine to go to her father and ask him to absolve her of her sin...but that could wait until later. What she needed to do now was distance herself from the box and carry on with whatever else required her attention for the day, starting with her own body.
> 
> Nobody aside from herself had looked at the wound on her side since Athos had dressed it back in the monastery, and with D'Artagnan being in far worse shape than herself, she wasn't eager to remind people of its existence. Having such attention right now would be of no benefit at all, she thought as she slowly pulled at the shirt she wore until she managed to peel it away from her body. It was an exhausting movement as she stretched her side in order to pull the material away, looking down at the bandage that Athos had tied around her almost three days previous. All of her supplies were back in the other room where she had used them to tend to D'Artagnan, and so the girl had simply removed the bandage and attempted to clean it as best as she could before she shifted the bandage around to a cleaner section and retied it. The flesh around the outside was beginning to look red in colour, and it burned violently every time she placed the bandage back against it to bind it tightly. And every time she removed it, there were fresh stains to tell that it was not yet healing the way it should. Katherine had quickly dismissed this as being because of the amount of moving and travelling she had done over the past several days, noting that her body was in far better condition to move about than that of her uncle. That was all it was, she told her firmly as she laboured to pull the shirt back onto her body and held her side gingerly. It was just from the moving.
> 
> Breathing slowly so as to keep herself from getting dizzy, Katherine began tucking her shirt unto the top of her skirt and moved over toward the small mirror and brush that had been set on the chest of drawers for her use. Her hair had fallen into a state of disarray since last she had tended to it, with random strands falling out while others looked closer to standing on end. Sighing at the spectacle that she was, she began to pull her hair out of the customary braid that she wore it in and untangled a few pieces with her fingers, letting her dark locks run their course down to the middle of her back. It had grown quite long since the last time she had cut part of it away, perhaps it was almost time to do so again, she thought as she tilted her head to examine it in the mirror. Letting it grow too long would not be healthy for her hair, not that anyone would notice. Unlike some people, Katherine wore it out of her face and in a practical fashion so that she could proceed with her everyday life, choosing not to put it into some kind of fashion that might attract attention from other people. Her father surely wouldn't approve of that at all. She picked up the brush with delicate fingers, noting its heavy weight as she began to run it through her hair to remove any knots that had formed in her sleep. Each stroke was slow and gentle to prevent any unwanted tugging, beginning near the ends of her hair and gradually moving upward. And while she worked, Katherine began to hum absent mindedly.
> 
> Another knock on the door startled the girl a little as her humming came to an abrupt end, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. It wasn't likely to be another servant, since the last one had arrived so unexpectedly, but her father or one of her other uncles coming to check on her. "Come in," she called lightly, turning her eyes back to the mirror for a brief moment in order to finish. "Have you been in to see him at all today?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she set the brush down again. "He was looking-" The girl gasped, eyes wide for a moment before she dropped down to her knees again and lowered her head, her hair brushing the floor and her teeth gritting a little against the pain that erupted in her side from the sudden movement. "Your Majesty."
> 
> For the second time, she found herself turning around to face a member of the royal family, but not the Queen as she had seen the night before. Instead it was Philippe who stood there, alone and in clothing far simpler than what he had worn when he greeted them yesterday. He smiled down at her for a moment before he moved forward and gently touched her chin with his hand.
> 
> "I much prefer Philippe, if you please." That same hand dropped down to wrap around her fingers and bring her slowly to her feet once more, leaving the girl with a rather startled look upon her face as she remembered how inappropriately dressed she was to receive him.
> 
> "Your Majesty, I pray you forgive my appearance," she stammered quickly, dropping her eyes again. "I was not expecting...well..."
> 
> "You were not expecting  _me_ ," he finished softly, letting his fingers fall away from her own. "I understand. Though I do wish you would look at me."
> 
> The way in which she had been brought up had taught Katherine never to make eye contact with the King, not that she had ever imagined she would have the chance to do so. And yet, when he asked her in such a gentle tone of voice, without command or harsh order, she couldn't help but allow her blue eyes to slowly look up into his face, really seeing him for the first time since his mask had been removed back in the Bastille. His smile widened ever so slightly as she did so, which did not escape her notice.
> 
> "With all of the commotion my brother caused, we wanted to cover it up with something that would throw all suspicion off of D'Artagnan and the others," he began. "I would like to discuss it with you, if you'll permit me." Katherine couldn't hardly believe her ears. The King of France had come to ask for her opinion on something? While she had also been included in the summons to court initially, she did not think she had made a very good impression upon Philippe or his mother when they had gathered together to begin discussing what was to be done with his brother. And yet here he was, dressed as if he were not King at all.
> 
> "I am but a humble servant to Your Majesty," she replied slowly, watching him with wary eyes.
> 
> "But I do not wish for you to see yourself as such," Philippe replied earnestly, leaning toward her a little. The closeness to her King was an uncomfortable one for Katherine, who took a small step backward in response and earned herself a small sigh from his lips for her trouble. "Would you walk with me in the garden?"
> 
> Now Katherine was incredibly unsure. "If you wish, Your Majesty."
> 
> Philippe slowly offered his arm to her, noting the hesitant look upon her face before he offered her yet another gentle smile, much like the one that Queen Anne had given her before. "You need not worry about your appearance," he said smoothly. "It is only you and I."
> 
> She wasn't thoroughly convinced that she liked the idea of being seen in such a state while on the arm of the King, but she dared not refuse him. Stepping beside him Katherine took the arm that Philippe offered as lightly as possible and allowed him to escort her from the room and down the corridor, rounding a corner which lead them to a short flight of stairs at the very end. There was nobody else about, no sign of her father, her uncles...nothing. It was if that entire part of the palace had been reserved strictly for their use and nothing further. Tapestries hung on almost every wall with suits of armour from older times on display to decorate each of the corridors that they strolled down together until at last Philippe managed to lead them toward the garden.
> 
> And what a beautiful garden it was, she thought as she looked around in awe. Roses, violets, daffodils...almost any flower that Katherine could name turned the green space before them into a modern version of Eden, with trees and fountains placed in the shrubbery to add delicate accents to the endless colour wheel. She looked around with a bright smile as her skin soaked up the rays of sunshine, immediately feeling a little warm beneath her skirt and shirt as her eyes roamed around eagerly to drink in the sight.
> 
> "It's absolutely beautiful," she whispered, pausing a moment to lean over and smell a growing rose. "Our gardens back at the monasterydo not even compare." Blue eyes lifted to look around her at the perfectly manicured pathways that lead between the sections of flora, trees standing every so often to provide shade for the benches that also sat nearby. White, red, yellow, blue and purple all swirled together as if a painter had put the whole thing together on his canvas...and Katherine was absolutely entranced.
> 
> "I thought you might like it out here," Philippe said gently as they began their casual stroll again. "It's not as stuffy as some of the rooms in the palace." Katherine turned her head to look at him with a bright smile, flattered that he had chosen to share such a moment with her.
> 
> "Your Majesty is very kind."
> 
> "Please," he said. "Philippe."
> 
> Katherine nodded. "Philippe," she repeated.
> 
> The two strolled for a while longer as he watched her face light up with each new flower that they encountered, noting just how interested she genuinely was in the beauty of the place he was to call home. She never once seemed to notice how closely he watched her, simply continuing to look around her with a gentle ease that he had not seen in her at all since her arrival at the palace. There was no more tension in her body, no sign at all that she was uneasy around him now that she was aware of who he was and what role he was to play in life. And while he couldn't fully place the feeling, there was something about her that made Philippe feel just a little more confident in what was to come. Even though the others insisted that France would be in far better hands while he was on the throne in place of his brother, he still had an image that he needed to maintain and a job that needed to be accomplished. His people would look to him for a brighter future, where they no longer had to worry about starving or becoming sick from rotten food, where they could flourish under the light of the sun without fear of their king stamping out the light of their lives all together. It was a great undertaking for a young man who had spent nearly twenty-two years of his life without knowing who he truly was. And now was the ultimate test, as he prepared to lie to people for the first time in his life in order to keep safe the people who meant the most to him.
> 
> "Katherine, I-"
> 
> "Kate," she said quickly as she turned to look back at him and laugh gently at the stunned look upon his face. "If you insist that I call you Philippe privately, then I insist that you call me Kate."
> 
> His face relaxed a little when he met the gaze from her bright blue eyes, gesturing down for her to take a place on the small bench beneath the shade of a tree, which she did as elegantly as possible. "Kate, I know that you and I do not know much about one another," he began, allowing himself to occupy the space beside her. "But I wanted to speak with you about the story we are using to cover up what happened that night at the Bastille."
> 
> The very mention of that dreadful place brought a shiver to her spine as she remembered the horrible images of the people who she had had to leave behind in their cells. It still made her stomach churn to think that anyone could permit anyone to live in such a state, though she had to remind herself that none of what she had seen was Philippe's fault.
> 
> "Have you invented something?" she asked him, folding her hands in her lap and twisting her fingers slightly.
> 
> He nodded to her. "We have. We want to tell the public that a plot was uncovered to remove me from my throne using an imposter with an uncanny resemblance to me."
> 
> Katherine nodded, tucking part of her hair behind her ear with a fidgety hand. That much made sense to her, as anyone who might have heard or seen anything at all that night could easily be persuaded to believing that as the truth. After all, she had seen the twins herself and had been rather surprised by just how similar they really were in appearance.
> 
> "We would then say that it was Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan who uncovered the plot and removed the imposter before he could establish himself as King...and that D'Artagnan was stabbed when the imposter tried to flee from custody." Katherine closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head, trying to block out the images of that night as she watched D'Artagnan's body fall from his injury. It was still there in her mind, a vivid picture of what she had nearly lost that night when a father had prepared to sacrifice himself for his son.
> 
> "What is it you wish me to say?" She understood how they had taken the truth of the matter and turned it into something else, but why was he consulting her on it when it seemed that the entire plan was set in motion already? She didn't understand, nor did she see why it was that he would ask for the opinion of a girl who was barely involved when the three men who had hatched the initial plot had already given him their thoughts.
> 
> "I wish to know what you think...will it pass?"
> 
> She bit down on her lip a little as she considered it, wondering how perhaps she might feel if she were not now integrated into the scheme. There were a considerable number of things that needed to be thought about before they proceeded, but none as critical as what they were going to do with Louis. It had already been made clear that neither Anne nor Philippe wished to leave him in the Bastille to rot, though Katherine would have been perfectly happy with that suggestion. And yet, to allow him to live freely in the manner that Philippe had before his imprisonment still made him a threat to the future of France because he was aware of who he was...mostly.
> 
> "If your people are to hear about this, they will want to know who it was that tried to displace you, and who the imposter was," she thought aloud, staring straight ahead of her. "The people do not love Louis, and I doubt that they will if you were to say that the men responsible for this plot were executed." He could almost swear he saw her mind working as he watched her eyes, for they were so focused on what she was saying now that he too found himself considering the scenarios she painted. "But," she said, shifting her body to angle in his direction. "If you were to publicly announce the plot and how it was stopped...then say that you set the would-be imposter free, they might be impressed by your show of mercy."
> 
> Philippe nodded, slowly beginning to understand what it was that she was going after as her thoughts continued to progress forward. "And what about those who would were responsible for the plot in the first place?"
> 
> She opened her mouth as if to speak, but hesitated as she reconsidered her words and turned her head a little in thought. "Showing mercy to the imposter might be all you need to gain favour from the people. But for a crime of treason such as this, any king would put them to death. The issue then becomes that the execution would be public, to set an example to anyone else who might think to try such a thing." She chewed on the inside of her lip. That wasn't going to work if they were to cover up the way in which her father and uncles had actually been involved in this plot. And it would be far too dangerous to stage anything else, even with criminals who had committed other crimes. It would not be fair to condemn any man to death for a crime of which he was completely innocent, D'Artagnan would not stand for that. "Death would almost be kinder...but you could tell them that you chose to throw them into the Bastille. There can be no other form of mercy for them." It seemed so cruel, banishing those non-existent people into that place, but the story had to be strong enough to hold and that was the only way it could happen. They all had to be kept safe.
> 
> "It may very well work," said Philippe as he thought about it a little more. "I am to meet with Aramis and my mother in a short while to discuss the details of the story." Katherine turned her head to look over at him, tilting it slightly as she took him into her own consideration. In the days since his rescue from the Bastille she had come to know absolutely nothing about the young man, except that he was the twin brother of the King and in fact royal only through his mother. Aside from those facts, she had distanced herself from him as much as possible out of hatred and respect, knowing that he was now the man who lead her country.
> 
> "Was there anything else?"
> 
> The King lifted his head a little and gave it a small shake, obviously reminding himself of the main reason he had wished to speak with her. "Part of the cover involves a ceremony in which I honour your father and the others for saving my life, with a ball to be held afterward," he said, shifting uncomfortably on the bench beside her. "I know this may seem forward of me...but I was hoping that you would be present for all of it." Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as she watched his sheepish expression, questioning whether or not she had heard him correctly. That must have been why Queen Anne had sent that box to her earlier, knowing that her own wardrobe would not serve at such an event. "I cannot be with D'Artagnan to make sure that he is alright, and I do not trust anyone else to be near him."
> 
> So that was it, she thought as the annoyance began to bubble in the pit of her stomach once more. He asked her to come only so that she could supervise and make sure that her uncle did not collapse during the ceremony itself. There was no other reason for her to be there, for seldom few people knew that Aramis had adopted her as a child. In the eyes of the court, she did not exist. And now, despite the way he had initially made her feel as if she could contribute to the cover they were formulating, Philippe had made it incredibly clear that she was merely a pawn in a game of chess. Her thoughts meant absolutely nothing to him at all.
> 
> "With all he has been through, I would never allow anyone else to care for him."
> 
> There was an edge to her words, but Philippe was so relieved that she had agreed that he either did not notice or did not care. Instead he reached out and gently took hold of her hand, finding that it was warmer than he thought it would be. "Thank you," he said softly, giving it a small squeeze.
> 
> Not trusting herself to speak again for fear of what she might say in anger, Katherine slowly rose to her feet and gave Philippe a silent curtsey, bowing her head and dropping her eyes. She held her position there for but a moment before she moved backward the required number of steps and turned away, moving along one of the green pathways and back into the palace. He did not move to follow her, she noticed as she rounded the corner and headed back to her room. He didn't have to. His task of getting her to go to the ceremony had been accomplished, his request for her to watch over D'Artagnan had been granted. There was no further reason for him to keep her in his presence, and she knew it. But if he thought that this was over between them and that her resentment toward him had vanished, then Philippe had thought wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

> "Mademoiselle?"
> 
> Katherine jumped back a little, a hand flying to her chest as she felt her heart momentarily stop beating from the shock of hearing a voice so close to her ear, turning sharply to look at who it was that had called for her attention. From the shadow of the corner she had just passed stepped a familiar figure, looking at her with an expression of slight concern written across his handsome face. His hands were folded behind his back and his boots tread lightly across the carpeted floor of the corridor as he approached her, allowing her to see his face in the light and breathe a small sigh of relief when she came to realize just who it was that had wandered down the corridor.
> 
> "Monsieur Tolbert," she said softly, allowing her hand to fall back to her side. "You startled me."
> 
> At this the man gave a soft chuckle and moved a little further into the corridor, circling around to the other side of her with the same slow pacing that she had so often seen her Uncle use in times of deep thought. "I believe this is the second time that I have done so. Forgive me."
> 
> But Katherine shook her head a little, offering him a small smile in return. "There is no need to apologize," she said lightly, as if the issue bore no consequence at all. "I suppose a Musketeer must learn to move about the palace quietly so as not to be observed by anyone. It would be of great use to you in battle I am sure."
> 
> The Musketeer ducked his head a little in a failed effort to hide the smile of his own that was growing on his lips beneath the thin line of growth that had begun to show on his upper lip in the same auburn as the hair that sat on his head. He was without his hat this time, she noted carefully, observing the differences in his appearance from the last time they had encountered one another. His sword still hung around his waist though, an essential piece to his uniform regardless of the occasion. Even when called before the King himself, she knew that his men wore their weaponry in case any danger should surface, at which time they would be able to defend their King with their very lives if necessary. Her father and uncles had spoken of doing such a thing many times when a young child had asked the questions that lurked in her curious heart, having watched them in fascination as they donned their uniforms and prepared to leave the monastery once again.
> 
> "We are taught that any skill is an asset to our profession," he answered smoothly, holding out his hand to her as he bent himself a little at the waist. Again she lifted one of her smaller hands and laid it gently in his, watching as he touched his lips again to her knuckles and then allowed her to take it back in the same smooth motion as before.
> 
> "Forgive me for asking, but are you alright? You seemed to be in rather a hurry to leave the gardens just now. Was someone bothering you?"
> 
> Turning her head to look back down the corridor, Katherine realized that she could no longer see the way she had taken to come from the very place that she had left Philippe, and in her mind that seemed to mean only one thing. Tolbert must have been watching her for much longer than it would take to round a corner.
> 
> "No," she told him, hoping that he did not know it was with Philippe that she had previously been, for she knew how it would probably look if he were to find out that the pair had been alone together in the garden thanks to the reputation Louis had established. "There was no one. I am afraid I am just not comfortable here in the palace."
> 
> She knew that she had told him a lie when it came to the company she had been keeping, and for that she would need to go and beg for forgiveness before God. But her disliking of being in the palace could not have been closer to the truth. She was used to a far smaller space in the monastery, without the finery of court and the numerous guards and servants wandering around as they did the bidding of some high lord or another.
> 
> Things were far simpler for her back home.
> 
> The young man nodded as he gathered his hands behind his back once more, moving a small step forward to a more familiar spacing between them. "I wish there was some way in which I could help you," he said, his eyes locking onto her own as he spoke in his gentle tone.
> 
> It was this softness that made Katherine smile a little at him, dropping her eyes for a moment as she felt the burning of a blush begin to creep into her cheeks. "Monsieur is too kind," she murmured, unsure of whether to move herself away from him a little or maintain the closeness in which they stood.
> 
> She had no experience with young men, and so found herself in a situation that she could not easily cope with as she had so often in the past. This was entirely new, causing a lightness in her stomach that Katherine had never before experienced. And yet she did not find the sensation to be unpleasant either, a fact that brought forth a small amount of confusion in the young woman as she stood under the tender gaze of Tolbert, alone in the corridor.
> 
> "If I may," he began slowly, turning his head slightly to glance in either direction and ensure that they were alone. "Perhaps I could be of assistance in this matter?"
> 
> It struck her as being a rather odd request from a young man who knew nothing of her, but Katherine found herself lifting her head to look at him with a curious expression upon her face. "Assistance?" she asked him with the same quizzical air. "I am curious to know how you might assist me. I shan't be a guest of His Majesty for much longer, I am sure."
> 
> Despite Philippe's questions from earlier about how best to go about covering up the chaos that they had found themselves in, Katherine had been fairly certain that she would return to her quiet life at the monastery in a short while. Of course, D'Artagnan was not well enough to endure the journey back with her, for the one leading to the palace had been incredibly slow and all together too painful for the young woman to watch as he winced and grit his teeth with every bump in the road. And yet there was none that she could trust with his care, afraid that perhaps someone else might come in and neglect him in a way that she never could. So it seemed that she would be staying for a while longer, she realized, at least until this ceremony nonsense was safely behind them and any suspicion was removed from her father and uncles. Tolbert continued to look down at her with the same soft gaze, making it rather difficult for Katherine to maintain any sort of eye contact with him.
> 
> "If you will permit me, I have an idea."
> 
> His lack of explanation only proved to be a further lure to Katherine as they stood together in the corridor, a small touch of a smile appearing in the corner of her lips. Was it improper? Perhaps it was, but as someone who was not at all familiar with the ways in which people her age were meant to interact, especially at court, Katherine found herself nodding in agreement.
> 
> "Very well. What idea is this?"
> 
> A smile broke out onto his face when he saw that there would be no resistance from Katherine, and so the young man boldly reached forward and wrapped his gloved hand around her smaller one. "If you meet me in the courtyard in half an hour, I will show you."
> 
> He gave her no further time to respond before he gave her hand a squeeze and released it all at once, hurrying his way down the corridor with only a silent wave of farewell. Rooted to where she stood, Katherine was speechless as she watched him move away, the only sign of her recognizing his words was the small movement that came from her hand as she too seemed to wave goodbye. But at all once she came to, and her mind immediately started to whirl around with thoughts of what he could possibly have in store for her to help make her more comfortable around the palace. And she only had a half hour to prepare herself?! Without further ado she turned on her heel and rushed back for a familiar sight, hoping to make it back to her room in time to make herself a little more presentable before she headed down to meet Tolbert in the courtyard.
> 
> She didn't know what he had in store for her, but she was certainly excited.
> 
> She was nearly breathless when she at last made it down to the courtyard to find a rather dashing young man waiting patiently for her to arrive. His hands were again folded behind his back as he slowly moved along the edge of the fountain where first he had met Katherine days before, but he no longer wore the uniform of a Musketeer. Gone were the gloves, the hat, the sword and the dark blue material of his tunic, having been replaced with a simple white shirt that covered his chest and arms while tucking nicely into the top of his pants. For a moment Katherine couldn't believe that they were one in the same person at all, until at last he turned around at the sound of her approach and offered her a bright smile. It was almost as if he had been pacing in anxious worry, afraid that the young woman would rebuff his invitation and leave him standing there like a fool. But Katherine could bring herself to do no such thing and was immediately glad that she hadn't when those unfamiliar feelings returned to her body at the sight of his smile. Now she was glad that she had taken the time to refresh herself when she had finally found her way back to her room, pulling her hair back up into a more respectable fashion and putting on a fresh shirt of her own. She felt like she was in much better order than she had previously been when Tolbert had found her in the corridor, and that was enough to make Katherine feel a little better about all that had happened in the past few days.
> 
> "I am glad you came," he said to her in his soft tone, again kissing the back of her hand with a little bow.
> 
> It seemed like such a formal movement, and yet Katherine bore no objection to the attention that he seemed to lavish on her. "How could I not when I received so kind an invitation?" she laughed gently, trying to ignore the tingle she felt in her fingers. "May I ask what it is you plan on doing?"
> 
> Tolbert simply smiled, offering Katherine his arm. "Not so much what as where."
> 
> The confusion swiftly returned to her bright blue eyes as she slipped her arm around his and looked up at his face once more, allowing his body to gently lead her away from the fountain in the courtyard and along one of the many paths in the garden. "You are being rather secretive, Monsieur," Katherine told him lightly as she allowed him to lead her away from the palace and into the maze of flora that sat at beyond the courtyard. "I'm not so sure that I approve of such a thing in a gentleman."
> 
> A hearty laugh sounded from the young man as he continued to lead her slowly from the sights of the palace and into the greenery that surrounded it. As she was still rather unfamiliar with the different places that could be accessed from various points of the palace grounds, Katherine was completely in the dark of where she could possibly be going, her curiosity growing more and more with each passing second.
> 
> "On my honour, Mademoiselle, I am not leading you astray. But I sometimes find that a walk can be good for clearing one's head of difficult matters."
> 
> It was rather evident by her expression that she did not fully understand what it was that he was alluding to. Of all the possible scenarios that Katherine could have gotten herself into this certainly seemed like the strangest one in recent memory. After all, it wasn't as if she found herself in the company of a man such as this every day. Sure there were men always around her, but those men were always far older than herself and entirely devoted to their way of life within the monastery, which meant that while they respected the young woman that she had become, they did not have the time to spend on young women the way that some of the King's musketeers would.
> 
> "What would make you assume that my mind is plagued with difficult matters?" she asked him innocently, allowing her eyes to lift from the path they took and toward his face instead.
> 
> _Oh, please do not let me be so readable_ , she prayed anxiously in her head. That was something that she believed to be rather unattractive in a woman, especially in those moments when she was clearly distressed about something. And to have such a bold young man on her arm, not to mention a rather handsome one at that, would surely make things worse for her as she attempted to keep her head. But the young man simply smiled at her as they continued on their stroll, taking her deeper and deeper into the foliage where all of the natural beauty was well hidden from prying eyes.
> 
> "Your eyes," he murmured to her. "They speak of a heavy weight that sits in your heart...a weight I wish to help lift, if ever I can."
> 
> Katherine couldn't believe her ears. Not only had Tolbert seen right through the guise that she had failed to keep in place, but he had also offered himself to her as one whom she could trust, someone who wished to help her better cope with this new change in her life. And all the while, the young musketeer had been nothing if not kind to her, a stranger whom he knew nothing about at all. All he knew was that she was a young woman in a strange place, thrown before the eyes of a King who did not have the best reputation when it came to the young women of his court. Yet he said nothing of what this King might have already said or done...no, he simply looked at her with genuine concern, causing Katherine's heart to melt little within the confines of her chest.
> 
> "I am afraid that only time can help me now," she replied softly, her words a bare whisper as she found herself captivated by his gaze.
> 
> The young man nodded solemnly, acknowledging her decline of his help for the time being. He stopped their slow walk through the gardens and turned to face her, now taking her one hand in his again as he had before. It was then that his eyes seemed to stare intently into her own, leaving Katherine with a rather tight feeling in her chest, as if her bodice was far tighter than it needed to be. "Then I shall wait until such a time when you may have need of me. I shall remain in wait for your word."
> 
> Keeping the same steady eyes upon her, Tolbert bent forward and pressed the back of her hand tightly to his lips, allowing them to linger much longer than they had ever done before and bring forth a tingling sensation in Katherine's spine. Not another word was spoken between them as they both moved to continue their walk. Nothing else needed to be said. For Katherine, words would have failed her if indeed she even attempted to make a sound. But as for her bold companion, he knew that nothing else was required on his part.
> 
> Not yet.


	12. Chapter 12

> "Katherine, did you hear me?"
> 
> Porthos tilted his head a little when he saw the startled expression on Katherine's face, having noted the distant gaze in her eyes before she suddenly seemed to return to the present moment and realize that he had spoken to her. She had been acting strangely since they had arrived at the palace almost three days earlier, looking rather pale and retreating from the company of others almost immediately after she had finished tending to D'Artagnan. Apparently she went about her tasks in silence now, refusing to even speak to the poor man who was still bound to his bed because his body had not yet recovered enough strength for him to stand and move on his own. Each day she guided him through a walk around the gardens and then lead him back to his room, cracking the windows open to allow for fresh air to reach his lungs. And after she had re-dressed his wound and stoked the fire to keep him warm at night she hurried back to her own room without even so much as a word to Aramis or anyone else. Aramis was growing concerned about her new found habits, which even now were beginning to worry Porthos as he took note of the changes in her person.
> 
> "No, I'm sorry Uncle, my mind must have been somewhere else. What was it you asked me?"
> 
> The old man frowned a little. "I asked if you had heard what was to happen for the ceremony."
> 
> Part of their cover for what had happened between Louis and Philippe was a special ceremony that would honour all of those involved in "saving" the life of the King. After another day and a half of conversation between them the details had finally been settled upon and plans were being made to ensure that the event passed as one of Louis' creation. The palace was being cleaned and the grand ballroom was once again being decorated for use as menus were finalized in the kitchens and invitations were sent out to all of the nobility. And with D'Artagnan seeming to improve everyday, it looked as though he might actually be able to partake without having to lean on Katherine for their walk down the hall to meet the King at the very end.
> 
> Katherine shrugged a little, glancing back at him with unconcerned eyes. "Vaguely," she began slowly. "Philippe mentioned some of what he was hoping to accomplish to me the other day, but I was not told any details of the ceremony itself. He only asked how best to turn the attention to those involved in the plot without revealing them to the public."
> 
> Ah, so that was where some of those thoughts had manifested, he thought to himself with a grunt. The boy had spoken to Katherine without anyone else around to ask for her opinion on the matter, a fact that he would need to report to Aramis as soon as he was able. He knew that his friend would not be pleased that Philippe had been isolated from the others with Katherine, especially if there was no knowledge of such a meeting occurring.
> 
> "Did you discuss anything else?" he asked as casually as possible, though Porthos was not known for his subtlety and instantly had Katherine's eyes on him as she raised a brow in his direction.
> 
> "No...why do you ask it in that way?"
> 
> Knowing himself to be caught in the middle of something potentially dangerous, Porthos had to think quickly on his feet and tell a bit of a lie. "Well, he is the King of course...but you did help save him from the Bastille. And he would be a foolish boy if he did not take note of how beautiful you are."
> 
> That seemed to distract her, for the girl quickly dropped her eyes as her cheeks began to burn brightly from embarrassment. Living in the monastery with Aramis meant that she was constantly surrounded by older men who had taken vows against such feelings toward women, but Porthos had never taken such an oath in his life and would die before he did so. As such, he was more than aware of the fact that nobody had paid his young niece such a compliment in her life, or so he presently thought.
> 
> "Regardless of how Philippe may look upon me, Uncle, it does not change our stations," Katherine said firmly, straightening her shoulders a little. "He is the King of France, and I am nothing more than the daughter of a priest...and truthfully am not even that. He simply asked for my thoughts on the matter so that everything was placed perfectly."
> 
> Her defenses seemed to have risen at his question, Porthos noted as yet something else to bring up to Aramis later that day. But which part was she the most defensive about, he had to wonder, the fact that she had been alone with Philippe or the fact that she was a beautiful girl who had been alone with the King of France? When Louis had been on the throne he might have guessed the later, for that was how the fight between Louis and Athos had begun, over the King's desire to bed his son's love. Perhaps being reminded of the King that they had before, when coupled with the resemblance they bore to one another, had put Katherine in a bad position and immediately made her suspect what was happening around her. Whatever the reason, there was still reason to be cautious when it came to the time that the two younger people spent together. As much as Porthos did not believe that his beloved niece would harm the boy, he could not rule anything out until they had dug down to the root of the problem.
> 
> A soft sigh fell from Katherine's lips as she turned back down the corridor from which they came, her movements a little slower than they normally were. "I have to go," she murmured softly. "I need to tend to D'Artagnan."
> 
> Porthos gave a firm nod and rose to his own feet, wrapping the girl in a firm hug as he held her to his chest for a moment in a rare display of affection. "Do what you need to do," he told her, giving a bit of a squeeze before he released her entirely. "If anyone can get him on his feet for the ceremony it is you."
> 
> In response Katherine offered a weak smile and leaned in to gently kiss the older man on the cheek before she turned and moved away, leaving him alone in the corridor. He watched her go with a mixture of sadness and regret until her lithe form had disappeared around a corner.
> 
> "Poor girl," he muttered to himself. "She did not know what she was getting into."
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> "What on earth are you doing!?"
> 
> With his back turned to her from where he sat at the writing desk, D'Artagnan couldn't help but smirk a little as he calmly finished signing his name to the document before him and set the quill back in its holder. He turned himself slowly in the chair and managed to end up sideways before Katherine was kneeling before him with a look of absolute terror written across her face at seeing him out of bed so suddenly. Part of him felt a little guilty, making her feel that way, but he had run out of options. The night that Anne had come into his room to see him was the last time that Katherine had spoken in his presence despite the number of times that she had returned to clean and redress the wound on his back and lead him on a slow walk through the gardens. All of his efforts to engage her in a conversation had failed miserably as the girl avoided his eye and ignored his questions, almost as if he did not exist on her arm at all. Leaning heavily against the back of the chair, D'Artagnan looked down at his niece with a small smile, rather pleased that his plan had worked even though he was going to pay for the movements later.
> 
> "Trying to figure out what terrible thing has happened that would stop you from trusting me," he answered in his deep tone, reaching a hand forward to brush against her cheek. "You have not spoken to me since our first night here," he added in a softer, more hurtful voice. "Why is that, Kate?"
> 
> The girl stared at him in dismay, her mouth agap as she struggled to find the words of explaination that might get her out of the awkward situation she was now in. "I have not stopped trusting you," she breathed, but D'Artagnan was quick to jump on her words.
> 
> "No? Then why do you distance yourself from me? Why do you go on as if we mean nothing to each other?"
> 
> She shook her head a little, hands falling into her lap as she twisted her fingers tightly together in the folds of her skirt. "Because...because..."
> 
> But the captain was growing impatient, angry even that she could not sum up the reasons behind her change in attitude toward him after twenty years. "Because what, girl!? Spit it out!"
> 
> Katherine choked on a sob and dropped her head, burying her face in her hands as she pulled away from him a little and cowered before him like a disobedient child. "Because you don't need me anymore!"
> 
> Her answer stunned the captain entirely, causing him to straighten a little in his chair as his blue eyes looked down at the quivering form that huddled into the floor beneath his feet. The sobs that he heard took him aback as he listened in silence, being able to count the number of times he had seen Katherine cry in her lifetime on one hand. And yet here she was, pulling away from him even further because she seemed to believe that he no longer needed her in his life.
> 
> "Katherine."
> 
> She pulled away from his hand as he moved to reach out to her again, almost sensing what he would do before he had actually decided on the task. Seeing her recoil from him like that hit D'Artagnan hard as he watched the gentle shake that appeared in her shoulders with each small sob that spilled from her lips, utterly breaking his heart to know that she felt that way at all. What exactly he had done, or what she had seen through her own eyes, he did not yet understand. But D'Artagnan was not going to let the matter go quietly, not without further attempts to secure the information from his niece before she bolted completely from his presence.
> 
> As slowly and quietly as he was able, the musketeer began to lift his body from the chair and lower himself down to the floor, into the small space that had formed between himself and Katherine. It was a painful journey down that felt as if it took forever to accomplish before he was finally resting on his knees, leaning slightly against the chair for support. He took but a moment to catch his breath before he reached forward and gently pulled Katherine to him until her head rested in his lap and he could gently stroke her hair.
> 
> "Kate," he murmured gently, a hint of sadness in his tone. "Why would you think such a thing? You know that I would not be alive if it were not for you."
> 
> She shook her head in his lap, pressing her cheek to the top of his thigh. "Because it's true. You have your own family to care for now...you need not pretend that I mean anything to you. I am not your blood, nor am I even Papa's."
> 
> Was that was this was all about, he wondered to himself as he stared down at her with eyes of disbelief. She thought herself to no longer be important to him because he had now replaced her in his heart with a family of his own creation? Even in his weakened state, D'Artagnan was hurt that she would believe such a thing of him, trying to understand what it was that had first brought those thoughts to light.
> 
> "I was only a replacement, wasn't I?" she asked, her voice beginning to crack under the strain of her emotions. "You knew that Louis was your son, but you could never be his father when he was supposed to be the son of a king...so you used me to replace him, just like Uncle Athos has done for Raoul."
> 
> It was utterly heartbreaking to hear those words spoken from her, from someone that he had come to love so deeply. But he supposed that part of that feeling was his own fault, and he had to acknowledge the role that he played in hurting Katherine. The poor child did not know everything there was to know about herself, and therefore had grown up with holes missing from her story...holes that he had hoped to fill one day.
> 
> "Child, look at me." His voice was still soft as he nudged her chin with his fingers, catching her attention almost immediately for use of a word that he had not associated with her in many years. Her tear streaked face was quickly taken in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her warm cheek as Katherine tilted her head to lay it in his larger hand completely. At least he could take this as a good sign, he thought silently. "It is true, I had to watch Louis grow up believing himself to be another man's son," he began, wiping her tears away slowly. "And I never had the chance to know that Philippe existed until the night they tried to put him in Louis' place. But you must understand something very important. While I may not be your father, I still love you as if you were my own. You have brought me more pride over the twenty years of your life than I had ever dared hope I would feel when I looked upon Louis." The small closed-mouth smile that he was fond of wearing had appeared once again on his face as he looked down on her, his eyes shimmering in the light that filtered in through the window. But Katherine saw something else when she looked at him as well, and couldn't help but draw her head back a little in uncertainty. Were those tears?
> 
> "Aramis raised you as his daughter after you were delivered to the step of the monastery," he continued, retaining his gaze on her. "You may call me uncle, but I have  _always_  looked upon you as my daughter. No matter what you may believe, you could never be replaced in my heart."
> 
> Blue met blue for a moment as Katherine stared straight ahead into her Uncle's eyes, watching the shift of emotion overtake him and a single tear begin to run from the corner of his eye. Being a man, and a captain of the musketeers no less, left no room for such things to be seen in the presence of other people when it could easily be taken for a sign of weakness. Were it anyone else who sat there with him, aside from perhaps his closest friends, he might not have just sat there and allowed it to happen. But he was there with Katherine, with someone who had been vulnerable her whole life because of her sex and yet refused to let anything force her into submission by intimidating her. Where there was someone who shivered from the cold, she was there with a blanket. When a person was bleeding from a fight and needed to be looked after, she was there to help clean their wounds. She had been raised with a heart of gold in his opinion, caring more for the safety of other people than she did for her own welfare, which had sometimes worried him when she was younger in case she reach out to help the wrong people.
> 
> Seeing the tear startled the girl a little as she looked up at her uncle, hardly daring to believe that he was showing such a vulnerable side of himself to her. But to know that he trusted her enough to allow his emotions to show through his tougher exterior touched her deeply and allowed her to reach out slowly to brush the tear away with a soft stroke of her fingers. Neither of them spoke a word as she did so, removing her fingers just as slowly as they had appeared before she murmured softly to him. "You should not be on the floor, you know. You might catch an awful chill down here."
> 
> Katherine pulled back from his hand and rose lightly to her feet, bending over to take a firm hold on one of his arms to tug him upward. He groaned despite himself as he moved, forcing his legs to push from beneath his body until Katherine was able to grab his other arm and plant herself firmly into the carpet. D'Artagnan leaned heavily into her body and gripped her arms tightly, pushing through grit teeth until he was in a standing position, breathing a little heavily from the effort. She couldn't help but smile a little.
> 
> "Now look at what you have done," she chastised with a teasing tone. "Philippe is going to be rather upset with me if you keep doing this. He would like to see you walking on your own accord for the ceremony."
> 
> Talk of the fake pageant that was to come was just what was needed to bring a deep rumbling chuckle to D'Artagnan's lips. "And if I cannot, then I know I can count on you to hold me upright."
> 
> "Being held up by a girl before the whole court?" she asked, shaking her head a little as she stepped into him and wrapped one arm around his lower back. "What would your men say?"
> 
> She couldn't help but notice the small grimace on his face when they began to move back toward the bed, glad that he would not need to try and lift his body back onto the mattress but simply allow himself to fall a little. Once at the edge, she again adjusted the hold that she had around him and flipped the side of the blankets away before she lowered him slowly onto the bed. "I am sure they would all be rather jealous," he said simply as he turned himself around to lay lengthwise and rest back against the pillows. "I would have the most beautiful young woman in the room on my arm at all times."
> 
> Again she felt her cheeks begin to burn a little at his words, much in the way that they had earlier when Porthos had spoken to her about the way that Philippe was sure to have noticed her. Why on earth they had all begun speaking to her like that was lost on Katherine, who pulled the blankets back over D'Artagnan's body and tucked them tightly around his legs to prevent any cold chills from reaching him.
> 
> "Now you are just speaking nonsense," the girl told him, crossing the room to close the windows. "There is no reason for anyone to pay any mind to me at all."
> 
> As his eyes followed her form, watching as she drew the curtains before the window and went to stoke the fire up again, D'Artagnan couldn't help but wish that she might once see herself through the eyes of someone else. Even he had come to notice the looks that men had begun to give Katherine as she walked by, staring to the point of being wide eyed and looking absolutely foolish in the streets when she moved about the market. They often pointed and whispered to themselves, noting that she would come from the monastery to purchase some necessities before she went back inside to her quiet life of being surrounded by priests and prayer, commenting on what a shame it was that she lived inside those walls. Their first moments in the palace were ones that D'Artagnan remembered despite the pain he was in, noting how Philippe's eye had looked upon his niece with a gentle admiration when he had seen just how earnestly she tended to him.
> 
> "But they will," he promised quietly, in a voice meant just for himself. "They will."
> 
> With her smaller tasks now complete, Katherine made her way back over to the bed and sat lightly on the edge of it, facing her uncle but dropping her head a little with guilt ridden eyes. "I am sorry for the trouble I caused you," she murmured softly, daring to lift her eyes only a little. "But when I stand in the same room as Philippe and the Queen, I cannot help but feel invisible and insignificant, even to you."
> 
> After a moment, he nodded in understanding. "In a place such a this," he began, gesturing to the room in which they sat. "I think it is quite easy for someone to feel that way."
> 
> It wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, and he knew it almost immediately when he saw the look that crossed her face when she yet again turned her head away to avoid his gaze. D'Artagnan sighed softly and moved to adjust his placement on the bed before he lightly patted the space he had created for her. Katherine waited long enough to kick off her shoes before she curled up on the mattress beside him, allowing her head to lay gently against his chest. "I confess that I do not fully understand what has made you so sad," D'Artagnan said, laying his left arm across his body to hold her a little closer while his right hand stroked her hair. "Whatever it is, I know that I am part of the cause, and for that I am sorry. I only wish to see you happy."
> 
> The girl sighed softly, closing her eyes against the soothing feeling of his hand on her hair. "But I do not know what would make me happy," she murmured. "Sometimes I think I would be happy back in the monastery with Papa. Sometimes I want nothing more than to be a musketeer and always at your side. And then I see how the Queen looks at you." D'Artagnan stopped for a moment and looked down at Katherine, curious to know what it was that she had seen when Anne had come into his room so quickly the other night. "And all I want is for someone to look on me like that, with love so deep that it could fill a whole room in an instant."
> 
> He couldn't help but smile to himself at the thought, knowing just how his heart would leap when he passed her in the corridors during his years of service as a musketeer. How he had caught her eye, he would probably never know, but now he could not imagine his life without her presence. Even if they were still forced to play their parts before the world he knew in his heart that she would forever remain there, and he in her's.
> 
> "I can only hope that one day you might discover that kind of love," he said, leaning his head down to gently kiss the top of her head before he resumed his movements against her hair. "You are an extraordinary young woman,  _ma petite_. It will take an extraordinary man to be worthy of you."
> 
> He looked down at her again, expecting her to respond in her typical fashion of disbelief when he smiled. Somewhere in their brief conversation, Katherine had fallen asleep against his chest, her breathing even as she cuddled toward the warmth of his body. The last time she had fallen asleep in such a way she had been a young child, exhausted from hours of riding, running and playing. He could still remember the day that they had shared, a picnic by the edge of the river meant to amuse a girl who had grown too restless for anyone else to handle that day when D'Artagnan had stopped by the monastery to see Aramis. She'd looked just as peaceful then, he thought to himself, but now she was no longer that tiny child he could pick up and carry around without issue, at least not in his present condition. Part of him refused to think that she had grown too much for him to carry if needed. But as the night began to settle in, he decided not to wake her, though he couldn't help but frown a little when he noted how warm her skin felt under his touch. Perhaps it was nothing though, for the room itself was kept rather warm for his own benefit while he healed. As he shrugged away the concern he felt, D'Artagnan reached across the bed and pulled the corner of the blanket over until it covered the both of them, gently pressing a kiss to her temple before resting back on his pillows and closing his own eyes.
> 
> "Good night,  _ma petite._ "


	13. Chapter 13

> "Something troubles you, my son."
> 
> Queen Anne sat quietly in her armchair by the roaring fire as the last of her servants left the room and quietly closed the door behind them, her dark eyes downcast to pay attention to the needlework she held in her hands. In and out the needle went through the fabric, leaving behind a trail of brightly coloured thread that was slowly beginning to form a picture upon the otherwise blank canvas, her nimble fingers making it look almost effortless. Her hair had been released from the netting and endless pins that she used during the day and now hung loosely around her shoulders in dark waves, while her elaborate gown had also been removed. In its place rested a nightgown of silk and a robe of deep crimson and gold that covered her body modestly from the eyes of anyone else who might be in her presence that night.
> 
> Philippe was leaning against the mantle, his eyes staring distantly into the flames that danced merrily in the hearth as his chin rested against a closed hand. Only at the sound of his mother's voice did he finally snap out of the trance that he had placed himself in and turn his head, looking at her for just a moment before he moved slowly to her side. "Mother?"
> 
> Despite the time that the two had now had to become acquainted with one another after their long years of separation, Philippe was still adjusting to the use of the word. He had spent endless nights in his prison cell wondering about the woman who have been his mother before he was removed to the Bastille, his crimes unknown. Had she been fair as he was? Had she been tall and slender or short and plump? Was she rich or poor, had she loved him or not? These questions and a million more had come to mind each night as he stared longingly at the moon through the bars of his cell, hoping one day to be freed and allowed to walk through the streets in the evening air so that he could better look at the moon. And yet, now that he was standing in the very same room as that woman, he couldn't help but feel a small sense of uncertainty loom about him. She did love him, of this Philippe was sure. But his lack of interaction with such a woman meant that he could not even begin to understand the little things about her, always wondering what that small smile of hers meant, or what the sparkle in her eyes indicated. She was about as mysterious to him as the young woman who had become involved in his rescue from the Bastille, the very same young woman who had plagued Philippe's mind until the moment his mother had spoken.
> 
> Anne's lips perked just a little more as she lifted her eyes and watched her son sink down onto the cushioned stool that sat at her side, her dark orbs patiently waiting to see if another question might first come from him before she spoke. "You are too silent."
> 
> Philippe sighed softly to himself as he ran a hand along his face, holding his chin for a moment before he allowed his hand to drop and join the second against his knees. "I am not sure that I can explain," he told her gently, a small laugh in the end of his sentence. "I feel so strange, Mother."
> 
> Hands stilled as the Queen Mother laid her stitching down in her lap and gazed upon the face of her son, seeing the uncertainty dance about in the bright blue of his eyes. Many times before had he been this way when the two of them were alone together at the end of the day, sharing his fear of not being able to successfully pass as his brother, of not being able to slowly make the necessary changes in his demeanor in order to slowly convert from Louis into Philippe in a way that might prove to be acceptable for the court. Philippe had never asked for the life that he had been thrust into, nor properly prepared for the type of work that now lay ahead of him. But in this instance, Anne was sure that it was not matters of state that plagued his mind and thus created the emotions she saw in his face. No, it was not France that troubled him now. It was something far more personal, something that Anne had dealt with herself in the past as she combated the issues of heart over duty. And much like herself, she knew that there would eventually be a worry of what was to be done about the issue itself, once it had been acknowledged.
> 
> "She is beautiful, isn't she?"
> 
> She had seen the way in which Philippe had gazed upon the young woman who had come into the room on that very first day with D'Artagnan's weight supported on her smaller frame. Anne had seen right away that there was a spark of fire in the eyes of that young woman, something that set her apart from many of the other women she had seen come and go from the court while Louis had sat on the throne. At first she had been rather startled to learn that she had taken part in the siege on the Bastille and helped to free her innocent son, for she knew that a situation like that was perilous for those involved and certainly no place for a woman to be. And yet she had gone, with no prior knowledge of what her adoptive father and uncles had been planning. All that Katherine had known was that they were heading into danger when she had run into Aramis that night, and she had refused to let them go alone.
> 
> The wide-eyed look that she received from her son was enough to tell Anne that she had been right in her assumption. Philippe had come to care for the girl in the way that Louis had never truly cared for any of his love affairs. Even Christine, the young woman who had been tricked into his bed through the death of Athos' son had never really meant that much to Louis. Colour had risen in Philippe's cheeks a little at his mother's bold statement, his throat clearing a little.
> 
> "You have taken notice."
> 
> It wasn't a question, she thought to herself, but a statement. "It would surprise you to know all that I have seen from my place," she said to him slowly, an air of mystery in her tone. "You forget that I sat as Queen for many years before I took my place beside your brother. And when a woman is not expected to speak, she must make good use of her time."
> 
> Another sigh escaped his lips and a hand moved through his light brown locks, eyes turned away for a moment to collect his thoughts. He'd never experienced this kind of feeling before, where a simple word or touch was enough to make his heart leap violently in his chest and his stomach churn in anticipation. The very idea of her was enough to make him feel almost queasy, and Philippe was not accustomed to feeling such a way. After all, the only contact he had previously had with a woman had been in the older lady who had cared for him while he had been in the country. Not even then had he been allowed contact with others outside of the old woman and the priest, having been raised and served by them for sixteen years before being thrown into the dark dungeon of the Bastille. Women were still very much a foreign concept to the young King.
> 
> "What do I do?" he asked her softly with a look that told of just how lost he had become. "Can I even do anything?" he added as an afterthought, eyes returning to gaze into the flickering flames of the hearth.
> 
> Very slowly, Anne reached out her hand to her son and placed it on both of his, brushing her thumb reassuringly along the smooth skin she found there. Philippe's eyes immediately returned to his mother as he waited for the response that she would give him, his heart fluttering madly in his chest in anticipation. There were so many variables that he needed to consider, so many questions that came to mind and threatened to confuse him further if no guidance was given. He did not want to hurt the relationship he shared with the musketeers, having seen how protective they were of Katherine when she had come to aid in his rescue. But neither did he want to be forced into silent agony, keeping those feelings to himself. If he had to do that, Philippe was sure that he would burst.
> 
> "You are the King of France," came his mother's gentle reminder, a small smile appearing on her lips. "Your advisers will expect you to make a political alliance with your marriage."
> 
> His heart sank a little, knowing her words to be true. Her own marriage had been one forged for that reason, not out of love as it had been with D'Artagnan. And to know that he might indeed be forced into marrying another that he had never before met until their wedding day already gave him a sense of loss. He would certainly not be permitted to court Katherine.
> 
> "However," Anne began again, causing her son's eyes to spring back to her face. "You are the King. If your heart yearns for this young woman, you would be foolish to ignore it."
> 
> Philippe's eyes brightened considerably and his face lit up into a smile. This was Anne's blessing, he knew it in his heart. As a woman who had been through an unhappy marriage of her own, would it not make sense that she would wish to see her son find the happiness that she had long been denied? And here she was before him, telling him in not so many words that he needed to go and seek the happiness that was right in front of him without worry. Oh, if only he could earn the same blessing from the others! As the men who served as his advisers at the present time, he hoped and prayed that they would be just as understanding as his mother had now been, even if Katherine was not a woman who could bring another country into alliance with France. She was one of the common people, and that would make the country accept her all the more, of this he was certain.
> 
> "Thank you! Oh, thank you Mother!" he cried, leaping to his feet and pressing a kiss to her hand. "You have lifted a heavy weight from my chest and given me hope! Thank you, thank you!"
> 
> With a smile so bright that it alone could have possibly lit the room, Philippe kissed the top of Anne's head as well before he hurried for the door, pulling it aside and removing himself from the room so quickly that the Dowager Queen could do nothing but laugh softly at his childish antics. No doubt there would be talk among the servants in the morning of what it was that had prompted the King to leave her presence in such a state of mind, but she would pay it no heed. All that mattered now was that her son was going to go forth and try to speak with the young woman who had captured his heart, allowing himself a chance at eternal happiness. All there was left to do now was pray that it would work out for the best and not be destroyed by outsiders the way that her own had been. Dangers still lurked around every corner for herself and D'Artagnan, whom she had seen only once in passing since the night that she had dared to venture to his quarters.
> 
> "Sleep well, my son," she smiled lightly. "And may God be with you."


	14. Chapter 14

> "Please meet me in the garden where last we spoke."
> 
> She couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to fall asleep like that. Had anyone come walking in to check on him for some unknown reason then she was sure the rumours would have spread about her Uncle and the young woman who lay in his arms. But thankfully she had stirred in the early hours of the morning and managed to quietly sneak from his room without disturbing him, closing the door with the utmost care before she returned to her own room and removed her clothes to slip between the sheets. She hadn't slept well or long, finding that her head ached slightly when she rose again and gave a resigned sigh, hearing the chimes of the clock to tell her just how early it truly was. But when she had brushed her hair and plaited it neatly down her back, the young woman finally took notice of the letter that sat on the window sill before her, having completely looked past it when she had returned to her room a few hours before. The curiosity had been too strong for her to contain and fingers moved swiftly to remove the piece of paper from the sealed envelope. There was no salutation, nor signature, just ten little words that immediately told her who the sender was.
> 
> Folding the letter back up, Katherine looked about her for signs of another person who might have concealed themselves within her room, but found no one. Nevertheless, she knew that for someone to see such a note would not look well upon her, the sender being in the clear unless his handwriting was known to those who might look upon it. Standing quickly, Katherine held the letter to her chest and crossed to the hearth, tossing the incriminating piece of paper into the embers and watching as it burned into blackness.
> 
> Now what was she to do, she asked herself silently as her blue eyes continued to stare at the now unreadable note. Clearly he would be waiting for her in the gardens, her heart fluttering lightly at the idea of seeing him again so soon. But had she given him just cause to send her such a forward note? Was he even allowed to associate with her? Considering his station in life, it would likely prove rather foolish for him to be seen with the daughter of a priest on his arm, a thought that still brought a small amount of colour to her cheeks as she thought about it further. Oh, how she would love to be paraded about like that, just a little bit so that the world would know of her existence. For so many year she had felt as if she were merely a shadow moving through life, something unseen by those around her. Was it so wrong for her to want to be noticed just this once?
> 
> In an instant, Katherine had made up her mind.
> 
> She took only a moment to adjust the skirt and blouse that she wore, patting her hair a little to ensure that it would be presentable before she hurried out the door and down the various corridors, following their twists and turns to the gardens that she had been so in awe of when first she saw them. Even now, in the early morning air, the flowers and trees seemed to hold their fragrances without issue, their colours vibrant against the soft orange and pink that the sky had become. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she looked about her, hands gathering her skirt just a little to avoid some of the dew covered grasses as she stepped slowly into the garden. He was here, waiting, she thought to herself happily. He had written her a note asking to meet her, for reasons she knew not, and he was hidden somewhere among the foliage to greet her.
> 
> And here she thought she had made a fool of herself in front of Tolbert…
> 
> "You came."
> 
> Startled by the voice behind her, Katherine whirled around to face the man who spoke and found to her surprise that it was Philippe who stood before her, not Tolbert. The handsome musketeer had not been the one to write the note after all.
> 
> Katherine immediately dropped herself into a curtsey, her side protesting angrily at being bent in such a fashion. "Your Majesty! Forgive me, I didn't realize-"
> 
> "No, please," Philippe said, hurrying forward with an outstretched hand to help bring Katherine back to her feet. "Please don't."
> 
> She blinked at him as she felt her body lift into a standing position once more. Despite her initial shock at having seen him as the person who had left the note for her, and her angry thoughts toward him after their last meeting, Katherine couldn't help but be rather puzzled by the tone of voice which Philippe used to speak to her. Blue orbs looked up at him with uncertainty as she felt his hand linger around her waist, thus bringing the two of them a little closer together then one might deem appropriate between a commoner and her King. But when she found that his bright eyes were locked upon her face, something within Katherine suddenly found that her chest felt tighter. Her hand began to tremble beneath his fingertips, her heart beating a little faster than it had before. It must be from before though, she thought to herself quickly as she took a small step back from Philippe and felt her hand fall at her side. Yes, the initial shock at having seen him when she expected someone else was what was causing those feelings. It made perfect sense now.
> 
> Silence fluttered between the pair as Philippe took note of her retreat from his touch, watching as Katherine slowly turned her back to him and wandered a few more paces ahead as if she were attempting to find a much safer distance between them. For a moment, his confidence seemed to fail him entirely. Perhaps he had read things all wrong, he thought to himself as he watched her, feeling a cold chill creep over his body and clench tightly at his heart. Perhaps those few moment he had felt between them had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination, a longing in his heart to be accepted by someone who knew the truth of the entire plot of which he was the center. No, came the voice of confidence once more in his mind, pushing past his negative thoughts and fears to be heard once again. He knew nothing of why it was that Katherine removed herself from him so. He was simply guessing at the reason.
> 
> "Are you alright? You look pale."
> 
> "I am perfectly alright, Your Majesty."
> 
> An awkward silence fell between them as both turned their eyes to the ground beneath their feet, wondering how best to deal with this situation. Clearly Philippe had meant for her to come, but Katherine had expected another man entirely to be waiting for her there, and now found herself in a position she had hoped to avoid entirely while at the palace.
> 
> "Forgive me for luring you out like this."
> 
> She turned her head slightly in his direction as he spoke, not enough to make eye contact but enough to tell him that she was listening to his words. "If I had known that Your Majesty wished to see me-"
> 
> "Kate."
> 
> Her heart fluttered a little as he cut her off with the nickname that she had insisted he use when last they had been together, hands coming together tightly against her chest in her uncertainty as if they alone could still the stirring in her breast. With great hesitation she turned herself around to face him once more, finding that his firm tone did not quite match the look that he wore in his eyes. It was almost as if they were imploring her to listen to him, to be still just long enough that he could speak without interruption or ceremony. And while his country would regard him as a King, standing there in the richness of his robes that would easily betray his identity, Katherine saw only a man; a man who's eyes silently begged for her to let him finish.
> 
> "Philippe."
> 
> A look of ease overtook his face as he stepped toward her again, taking care to note the gentleness in her tone of voice. "When the rest of the court looks at me, all they see is Louis," he said softly, coming to a halt only a pace or two before her. "I do not think I could bare to have you see me like that."
> 
> A slight tilt of her head and the knit expression in her brow was enough to tell him that she was now truly confused by his words. He laughed softly to see her looking so and reached out slowly until he had taken both of her tiny hands in his larger ones, holding them firmly between their bodies. It was then that her expression changed from one of confusion to one of shock, her eyes widening greatly as she felt the warm touch of his hands on her own. Lips parted as if to speak, perhaps in protest to the fact that there was something inappropriate about the way that he had reached out so suddenly to her, but words seemed to fail her entire as she continued to stare up at him. And for Philippe, it was satisfying in a way to know that she had not pulled away from him almost immediately after he had made initial contact, feeling that this had to be some kind of sign from above that he was headed in the right direction.
> 
> "I must tell you how I feel," he began softly, brushing his thumbs along the smooth skin on the back of her hand. "I have been in agony for several days now, wanting to tell you. But I was so afraid that you might reject me because all you saw was the crown that I wore."
> 
> Katherine blinked up at him, but still no words fell past her lips, and so Philippe pressed forward lest she regain her senses quickly. "I have never met anyone like you, Kate. I have known very few people in my life because of who I am, and now I must become someone else entirely to preserve my life and the lives of those most important to me. But I do not wish to be that person all the time."
> 
> One hand slowly pulled away and lifted instead to approach her cheek. She knew it was coming, despite the fact that her own eyes could not pull away from Philippe's at that moment, Kate knew that the gentle touch of his fingers against her cheek was coming and the colour instantly rose in her face as heat radiated from her skin. Her eyes closed slowly at his touch, her face turning ever-so slightly in the direction of this new attention as she found herself rather enjoying the tingling sensation that now coursed up and down her spine. Her breath caught a little in her chest as the concentrated movement of his fingertips moved lightly up and down the surface of her cheek and caused her heart to skip a beat in response. Oh, she had never thought to experience such a feeling at the hand of a man, at the hand of someone whom she barely knew…
> 
> "Philippe, please," she murmured quickly, eyes flying open as she took a small step backward to widen the space between them. "I beg you. You are King, a man that the entire country relies upon for their safety and well-being. They will expect you not to love a common girl like myself, but to marry a Princess from another country and create a political alliance to guarantee their future."
> 
> "But do you not think that the people of this country would rejoice in happiness to know that the King had married a woman of no stature?" he pressed, moving forward again to lightly place his hands on her upper arms. "Louis would never have allowed himself to do such a thing. He would take them for lovers, but nothing more." The young man paused, licking his lower lip nervously before he looked back at her, blue meeting blue with the same intensity as before. "But I love you," he continued in his soothing tone. "And I want the happiness that my parents never had. Being with you would give me that happiness."
> 
> "We hardly know one another," was her weak response, giving her head a little bit of a shake as if to better clear her head of how foggy her thoughts had become.
> 
> He nodded slightly. "I know. But I wish to know you better. And hope that, perhaps in time," here he paused, looking into her eyes for a sign to continue. "In time, that you might come to care for me as I care for you."
> 
> "And if not?"
> 
> For a moment, Philippe was absolutely still. His expression remained frozen in place as if Katherine's words had no effect on him at all, though inside his stomach lurching violently at the idea that perhaps he had misjudged the entire situation before him. And then his smile softened even further, his eyes looking at her with the same adoration that had been there from the moment he had seen her standing in the gardens just as he had asked her.
> 
> "If not, then I hope that you and I can at least be friends, for I shall never forget all that you have done for me."
> 
> The tension fell from Kate's chest as she exhaled slowly and blinked a few times, looking up with Philippe with a gentle smile to rival his own. "I should go," she whispered, turning her head a little to look toward the door. "There are things that must be done before this evening."
> 
> His fingers instantly flew to one of her hands again, his grip far tighter this time then it had previously been. "May I have hope?" he asked, eyes silently begging for a positive response that he could hold onto.
> 
> At Katherine's smile, the King leaned forward and pressed the back of her hand to his lips, holding her thin fingers in both of his hands to keep her from pulling away before he was ready. For a long moment they remained that way, until at last with a soft laugh and a furious blush in her cheeks, Katherine pulled back and curtsied low before she hurried away toward the door. That meeting had not at all been what she had first expected it to be, but the result was much more pleasing then one she could have ever imagined before. All that escaped her notice as she made her way back into the palace was the figure that lurked in the shadow on the other side of the corridor, watching with narrowed eyes from a nearby window just how the interaction between King and girl had gone.
> 
> His teeth grit together in frustration as he watched her move away, noting the smiles on both of their faces and how the King seemed to stare after her until at last he recovered his senses and disappeared the other way into the garden. No doubt he would hurry off to tell his Mother all about the encounter, he thought bitterly, for the Dowager Queen was sure to have encouraged his clear infatuation with the young woman who had come in the company of four old men. Nevertheless, everything would be carried out according to plan. He had his orders, and he would not fail in bringing them to pass.
> 
> After all, it was his job.


	15. Chapter 15

> "Is everything in order for tonight then?"
> 
> Philippe waved his hand to signal that all of the other servants were to clear out of the room as Aramis approached him and bowed from a slight distance, an indication that they needed to speak without having witnesses to their conversation. He rose after a moment and gave his King a firm nod, a hand lightly coming to rest on the thin shirt he wore over his stomach.
> 
> "Nearly, Your Majesty. There are but a few little details I wish to discuss with you before we proceed."
> 
> The invitations had been sent and the kitchens had been busy preparing for the feast that would happen following the ceremony itself, which would not take place in the middle of the day as they had initially thought it would, but in the early evening hours. Philippe wondered what it was that Aramis desired to ask him as he crossed the distance between them slowly, keeping the mannerisms of being King until he was sure that everyone had cleared from the room as ordered.
> 
> "What is it, Aramis?"
> 
> There didn't seem to be a trace of worry in his face, so his immediate thoughts of D'Artagnan had been laid to rest. It was hard, not referring to the man as being his father when he knew the truth of the matter, and while he had been unable to see much of him because of the time he had to spend going over matters of state, Philippe knew that he was in safe hands.
> 
> "This might seem a rather strange question," Aramis began, moving both of his hands to cross over his chest. "But I must know how much time you have been spending with Katherine."
> 
> Philippe blinked, rather taken aback by the nature of his question. In truth, he hadn't spent nearly the amount of time with her that he might have liked, for their stolen moments of talk in the garden had opened his eyes to a few things he hadn't thought of before and reminded him of just how much he truly needed to learn if he was to govern his people fairly. And more than that, while he knew that to utter such a thing aloud would probably be an offense to her, he thought of her to be brave and charming in her own way, remembering just how frankly she had spoken during their first real meeting. He could never truly repay the debt he owed her, first for saving his life and then for saving the life of his father, whom she clearly loved as much as her own. But that second meeting had brought forth a whole new bundle of thoughts and emotions for the young King, who felt his heart flutter a little at the very mention of her name. He wanted to be honest with Aramis and tell him of the last time he had spoken with Katherine, but his mind immediately put an end to such a thing and silently insisted that there was much more to learn before he could speak to his advisor of such a thing.
> 
> "About as much as I have been able to spent alone," he told Aramis, clearly confused. "We spoke in the garden a few days ago about the details we had worked out to cover up the entire situation, and I confess that much of what I brought you the next day were of her own thoughts."
> 
> Well, that accounted for that, thought the old priest. Katherine had grown up around him and his friends, where she had no doubt picked up a thing or two about politics and schemes due to the nature of their job. She would have thought about the fate of those who had hatched the plot, all the while ignoring that a worse fate would have awaited them if they had actually been caught and imprisoned.
> 
> Still he worried about the things that he had discussed with Athos and Porthos before, noting a change in his daughter that he had not seen until recently, which only added to his growing concern for her and the time that she spent with Philippe. But he sensed that Philippe was still looking at him with a look of confusion, and so spoke with a lie he had created for such a circumstance.
> 
> "I merely ask because I have not seen her much myself," he said as smoothly as anything. "It seems that she goes about tending to D'Artagnan and then hides herself away from everyone else, and it pains me to see her so recluse."
> 
> Tension immediately left Philippe's face as he allowed a smile to shine through, nodding his head in understanding. "I see. You need not worry, Aramis. You will see her tonight at the ceremony."
> 
> Now it was Aramis' turn to look upon the young King with uncertainty, not fully grasping the weight of his statement. While preparations had been made in order to get the evening off without any problems, he had not given much thought to those who would appear and partake in the generousity of the King.
> 
> "I asked her to be there," he explained. "Mother insisted that she be present, and I needed someone I could trust to watch over D'Artagnan as I cannot."
> 
> He had expected, of course, that Katherine would find a hidden place from which to watch the presentation happen, knowing full well that his daughter was not a lady one would normally see at court, nor had she appeared overly anxious to be seen by any of the nobility who would attend. And with D'Artagnan determined to be well enough to endure the walk on his own, she seemed more than happy to bow out of sight.
> 
> "I was not aware," Aramis said slowly, wondering why it was that Katherine had not come to him to tell him the news. "But it is perhaps wise. I do not believe that D'Artagnan is yet strong enough to endure the whole night alone, and while I know he will try, it will be good to have Katherine there to watch over him."
> 
> They seemed to be in agreement that the captain would try his best to make his first public appearance appear normal, not wishing for anyone to see that he had been wounded and put out of commission for even the shortest period of time. The people of Paris knew him well for the many times he had intervened with the King on their behalf, and when news travelled that he had been hurt in his haste to protect the King, there had been mixed feelings among them. Some were proud of him and yet sad to learn that such a noble man had been placed in danger like that, while others were upset with Louis, feeling that it was his fault D'Artagnan had had to step in the way that he did. And knowing D'Artagnan as Aramis did, he was more than aware of the fact that his old friend would be rather stubborn in wanting to appear before the people in full health.
> 
> "Now, if you will excuse me," Philippe said, straightening his posture and moving his hands around his back in a regal manner. "I think I have a few more things I need to oversee before I am stolen away to be dressed."
> 
> The process of dressing a King for such a public event would no doubt take a long time to accomplish, and so Aramis bowed low again in case there were others present to see their interaction. "Your Majesty."
> 
> With a small nod and a kind smile, Philippe moved toward the door at the opposite end of the room, leaving Aramis to stand alone in the middle of the ballroom. The time was fast approaching when he too would need to return to his room and ready himself for the moment when the four of them would walk down the carpet together to kneel before the throne, but there were a few other things that he needed to see through first. Chief among those things was a chance to return to the chapel and pray that nothing went wrong with the ceremony that evening, along with a silent wish that Katherine might eventually tell him what terrible thing plagued her heart. With a sigh of resignation he carried himself from the room, hoping that nothing would happen until after the night was through.
> 
> Her heart was beating violently in her chest as she was lead through the various corridors of the palace and into yet another section that she was unfamiliar with, up the winding staircases and across halls that were littered with servants trying to clean before guests began to arrive for the ceremony. Katherine had only just returned to her room from laying out D'Artagnan's things for the night when someone had quickly pushed themselves into the room and gestured for her to come with her, stating only that the Queen had asked to see her. A hundred different questions began to form in her mind as she panicked, wondering what it was that could possibly have led to this meeting. Had the Queen learned of the time that Katherine had spent in the garden with Philippe and been displeased by it? Was she no longer satisfied with the way in which her lover was being cared for? Or perhaps she had done something else entirely without knowing that she had offended the Queen? The servant said not another word as she ushered the poor girl around until at last they approached a set of large wooden doors, mahogany by the look of them, and pulled her through them into a smaller chamber. There Katherine had been instructed to wait and the servant had vanished through yet another pair of doors.
> 
> It felt like an eternity had passed before someone reappeared, nodding for her to approach. She smoothed her skirt out of habit and cautiously stepped forward, hearing someone announce her name before she heard the doors close behind her and Katherine found herself standing in a much larger and nicer room than the last.
> 
> "Good, they found you," Anne said with her heavy accent as she rose from her chair and moved toward her.
> 
> Katherine dropped herself into a painful curtsey, which was met with an amused laugh before she was touched by the Queen and rose to her feet once again.
> 
> "There is no need for that in here."
> 
> Katherine remained motionless, her bright eyes still scared as she absorbed the gentle look that Queen Anne gave to her, noticing the strange state of dress that she was in. "Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not realize that you were looking for me. I was helping my Uncle with-"
> 
> "Yes, I know," came her soft voice with a motion for Katherine to calm herself. "Tonight is an important night for your father and uncles. However, I think that you and I both know that D'Artagnan is still not in the best of health."
> 
> The girl nodded slightly, breathing slowly to push away the dizzy feeling that threatened to overtake her body as the heat of the room swept over her. "Whether he would like to admit it or not," she murmured a little, smiling to herself. "He can be rather stubborn when he so desires."
> 
> Laughter once again fluttered about the room as Anne looked down at the girl, inspecting her with her eyes. "He will need your help," she stated simply, turning to move back toward the chair from which she had just risen. "And so I believe that you may need mine."
> 
> Stunned by this apparent observation, Katherine watched the Queen silently as she moved away and blinked at her in confusion. What help could she possibly require from the Queen? Only when Anne motioned for her to follow did the girl dare to move, turning slightly to watch a number of other ladies she had not noticed before continue to move about the room.
> 
> "Would I be correct in saying you have never attended something like this?"
> 
> Katherine nodded, not trusting herself to speak for fear of saying something that might sound ignorant. But Anne simply nodded in return and signalled to some of the ladies behind her.
> 
> "Good. Then we shall begin with a bath."
> 
> A bath? Had she heard right? She had been whisked away from her own room and pushed through various corridors and passageways so that the Queen of France could insist that she took a bath? If Katherine hadn't been confused before they had ushered her into the room, she was certainly confused now, watching as ladies hurried forward with a metal tub and set it before the fire, pouring jugs of hot water into it. Another hurried forward and began dropping rose petals, while yet another was adding a container of water that smelled as if she had bottled up the whole garden of roses and somehow turned them into a liquid form. Katherine watched it all happen in awe as Anne took her place in her chair once more, moving a hand silently to signal for someone to step forward and help the girl remove her clothes. The first touch made her jump when she felt hands attaching to her skirt, a blush appearing on her cheeks. Anne couldn't help but laugh softly.
> 
> "It is alright," she said. "You need not be shy."
> 
> But she was shy, for who in their right mind would remove all of their clothes and stand before the Queen in such a state? Well...perhaps there was one person who would, but their reasons for doing so were completely separate from having a bath she was sure. The skirt was removed from her body so quickly that Katherine did not have time to miss it before someone else was beginning to deal with her shirt, pulling it from her. With the skirt gone, those hands quickly busied themselves with unplaiting her hair, and thus coming into conflict with the woman who tried to take her shirt.
> 
> It was then that Katherine remembered the horrible marks on her side from the night in the Bastille, frantically thinking of how best to cover it from the Queen's eyes. Her arm flung across her body and held tightly to both her side and stomach as she tried her best to steel herself against the burning that she felt yet again, pining her other arm down tightly to her side as soon as she had been stripped of her clothing. Now fully naked and at the mercy of her Queen, Katherine fidgeted with obvious discomfort.
> 
> "Come, child. We must make you presentable for tonight."
> 
> She walked over with small steps until she stood at the edge of the tub, looking down at the steaming water with a hesitant glance. Lifting one foot, she slid it into the water first to make sure that it was alright before the rest of her body began to follow, her arm still wound tightly around her. Her wound stung even more viciously as the water lapped around it, and it was only by clenching her teeth that Katherine did not cry out in pain. But no one else seemed to take any notice, and that was the most important thing. It would not do if Anne or any of her ladies were to see the marks, and Katherine would do almost anything to keep her injury from her.
> 
> "Relax," came the Queen's soft voice as she leaned over the top of the tub and pet Katherine's hair lightly. "I promise you will feel much better once you are clean."
> 
> Not wishing to do or say anything that might offend the woman after the kindness she had already shown her, Katherine nodded quietly and did her best to relax despite the desire she had to scream out against the agony she felt churning in her body. Instead she tried to focus on the activity around her, watching as other women moved around her and began to gently scrub away at the bottoms of her feet and legs, moving their way up her body. As they approached her torso however, she jerked away from them a little and caused the water to ripple around her.
> 
> "My sides are incredibly ticklish," she said as she heat rose in her face.
> 
> But Anne only nodded with that same small smile and told her ladies to work around her sides. Soft cloths ran along her belly and between her breasts as they washed away the dirt and grime, more hot water being added every so often to keep the tub at a comfortable temperature for the occupant. They cleaned everywhere they could possibly reach, even taking hold of her arms one at a time to scrub them down, which she allowed as she quickly covered her side with her remaining arm. If Anne noticed her strange behaviour she said nothing, but from the way that the Queen was speaking to a few of her attendants in the background, she hadn't taken much notice of anything Katherine had done since climbing into the tub. But that was alright, it suited her just fine for things to go on that way.
> 
> "Now," came the voice of the Queen with the same gentle authority as before. "We need to wash your hair, so just lie back and close your eyes."
> 
> Still unaccustomed to the way in which the Queen spoke to her so normally, Katherine nodded slowly and leaned backward, closing her eyes as instructed. "Yes, ma'am."
> 
> Again she felt the warmth of the water overtake her as it cascaded down the curves of her body, making her hair cling to the sides of her face and back. Then there was the sensation of something else, something cooler, being poured onto her head before a pair of hands gently began to massage it into her scalp. In an instant she could feel her body beginning to relax a little as the motions continued over her skin, inhaling the sweet scent of whatever they had poured into her hair. Everything about that moment was soothing to the girl, allowing her to relax even further as more water was run over the top of her head and the massaging continued from there. Any bathing she had done in the past had been of her own making and always a little more complicated because of the length of her hair. But as she sat there quietly in the tub that had been placed before the roaring fire, allowing someone else to take charge and clean her body of the filth she had accumulated since last she had cleaned herself, Katherine felt herself enjoying the idea of being pampered in such a way. And since it was highly unlikely for it to happen again, she knew that she could enjoy it all the more. For several more minutes she sat like this, allowing her hands to be taken up one at a time and scrubbed until the dirt under her nails had vanished entirely.
> 
> Once they had rinsed the soap and other smelly liquids from her body, Katherine slowly opened her eyes again and watched a pair of women motion to her with a sheet of material, signalling that it was time to rise from her bath and dry herself. Conscious of the eyes that would be upon her form the girl wrapped both of her arms around her sides and braced herself for the chill that would overtake her body once she had removed herself from the warm water, moving quickly to hide in the fabric as it soaked in the loose water. She turned herself around just in time to see the Queen rinse her hands in the water, shaking them a little to rid herself of the droplets before she rose to take a smaller piece of material and dry them. It was then that Katherine realized who had been behind her, massaging the oil into her scalp to clean her hair. Anne must have done it herself! The Queen looked over at the young girl with upturned lips before she motioned to someone else to step forward, a young attendant who swiftly set a box at the feet of her mistress that looked all too familiar to Katherine's eyes.
> 
> "I was hoping to see you wear this tonight," Anne told her, bending forward to push the top of the box aside to reveal the beautiful garments beneath it.
> 
> "Your Majesty, I...I..." But she was entirely lost for words.
> 
> "Yes, of course," Anne said smoothly, stepping in to cover the air between them when she saw the stunned expression light on Katherine's face. "You have never worn such a thing before. I understand. That is why you are here."
> 
> To say that she did not understand how to wear the gown that she had been given would have been a massive understatement for her part. She knew that it would have layers, several pieces that fit together as if one was attempting to paint a work of art to be on display for all time. And she knew it would be nothing like dressing herself back at the monastery, where simplicity was far better than anything material that would be worn by the ladies at court. And yet Katherine understood that she could not appear anywhere near the celebration that was due to happen in the clothing that she would customarily wear, which Anne had seen almost as soon as the girl had strolled through those doors on her first day.
> 
> "Why?" Katherine murmured softly, earning herself several shocked looks from the ladies who fluttered around her. "Why is Your Majesty doing this for me?"
> 
> While nobody said a word, she knew that she would be the talk of the servants by the end of the evening for daring to ask such a bold question of their Dowager Queen, but she could not help herself. In her eyes, Katherine had merely done what any decent human being would have done when it came to saving a life, and D'Artagnan meant far more to her than a common stranger. Yet she could see in Anne's face that there was something more, something she probably could not say in front of those who were present. It was like a secret lingered in her eyes, a secret that would forever be linked to her heart.
> 
> "There are many reasons for why I do this," she said slowly, allowing the weight of the words to sink in without dispelling their true meaning. "But most of all, I wish for you to feel comfortable...and realize how beautiful you are."
> 
> Hearing such a comment made at her yet again was beginning to make Katherine feel a little uncomfortable, unsure of how properly to respond without saying that the notion sounded completely ridiculous to her ears. People simply did not pay her the same attentions that they did to other girls her age, and no man had dared to approach her with words of her physical being before, aside from her uncles. Katherine dropped her eyes and held the sheet a little more tightly around her body, feeling a shiver course up her spine and bring forth the tiny bumps on her arms and legs.
> 
> "Come now, my dear," Anne told her as she reached a hand forward. "Let us get you dressed."
> 
> There was but a moment of hesitation before she allowed herself to step forward and within arms reach of Anne, who nudged her gently toward the box and picked up a silk shift from the bed to begin the dressing process. Realizing that it would mean exposing her side to the Queen's eyes, she feigned embarrassment and hunched over her covering a little until they permitted her to slowly place both of her arms into the shift and work it down over her body. Only then did she remove the sheet and allow someone to take it away from her, now safe in the knowledge that nobody could see the ugly mark her skin now bore. Anne smiled down at her again, looking rather interested in the prospect of helping the young woman prepare for her first public engagement.
> 
> "Yes," she commented lightly as she looked Katherine over. "Yes, I think the dark blue was a good choice."


	16. Chapter 16

> "Interesting…"
> 
> The man paced back and forth in his room before the open window, the fire roaring in the hearth. Time was running short on when he was expected to be in his proper place for the evening that was to come, but a moment or two more wouldn't be much of a delay. It would be likely that his absence would not be noticed anyway, for there were several more pressing things for people to concern themselves with aside from whether or not he was in his place at the appointed hour.
> 
> His eyes continued to scan the piece of paper he held in his hands as he moved, reading and rereading the tidy handwriting that spread across the page. His communications had gone unchallenged and undetected for the past little while, which was well enough for both himself and the person who received the notes on the other end. Neither of them were quite ready to have their plans revealed to the public, especially now that there was a whole new situation for them to be concerned with. Instead of simply moving to deal with the disaster of the monarchy as they had intended, he knew that there was a new pawn in the game that they were about to create, a pawn that would play rather nicely into their hands if she could be manipulated correctly.
> 
> He had seen her in the garden earlier, witnessed the expression upon her face when she had turned herself around and spotted the King standing behind her. And while he had been unable to hear any of the conversation that had taken place between them, his eyes had told him all that he needed to know. There was no doubt that she had smiled at him, that words had at one point failed her as the pair closed the distance between them for a short moment before they both remembered where and who they were. But there had been no mistaking the look she had worn upon her face when she had left him standing there in the gardens, nor the one on his as he turned to watch her go.
> 
> The plan would change, that much was certain, but the changes would work in their favour.
> 
> Footsteps continued to sound through the room as he moved back and forth before the hearth, eyes downcast in thought with arms folded behind his back. It would take a little time to rearrange everything according to their needs now, and further time to ensure that the girl could be manipulated as they wanted. She wasn't a stupid child who had been picked at random from the peasants in the streets, but an educated young woman who was protected by some of the most famous of Musketeers. And now that she had caught the interest of the King, there was no telling just how closely watched she would become at his insistence. Each step that they took from this point on would need to be carefully planned and executed in order to keep them in the clear before the appropriate time. They could not afford a single misstep.
> 
> But the hour was approaching at which time he would be missed, and having a superior come in search of him would not bode well for him. With one last look at the letter in his hand, he tensed his fingers and crumpled the paper into a tight wad before he gave a flick at the wrist and cast it into the flames that danced in the hearth. His dark eyes watched as it slowly began to curl upon itself, black spots appearing and spreading over the surface of the paper as the flames did their work and consumed it entirely. Only when he was sure that it could never again be read by an individual did he turn away, collecting the tunic of his uniform in his hands as he strolled out the door.
> 
> It was time.


	17. Chapter 17

> "I have a message and a package to deliver, sir."
> 
> Athos frowned slightly at the servant who had come to knock on the door before turning back to look at the others. They had all come together in D'Artagnan's room to prepare for the ceremony, choosing the opportunity as a moment to conference between them secretly and ensure that they were all aware of the proceedings before they had been interrupted by the messenger's arrival. Porthos stepped forward, frowning heavily himself. "Who are they for?"
> 
> Clearly intimidated by the presence of all four men, the messenger shifted his weight in discomfort at having been asked such a direct question. "The letter is for Monsieur Aramis from Her Majesty, Queen Anne. The package is for Monsieur D'Artagnan from Madamoiselle Katherine."
> 
> That did not seem right, Aramis thought to himself as he absorbed the messenger's words. If anything, he would have expected Katherine to send him something and Queen Anne to be sending her letter to D'Artagnan in secret correspondence. And yet the man did not seem to feel as though he had made a mistake at all as he stood there awkward, waiting for one of those present to relieve him of his packages so that he could hurry away to something else. Aramis nodded to Athos, who responded in kind before he stepped forward to accept both on behalf of their intended recipients and closed the door firmly as soon as the man had backed away.
> 
> "Well?" Aramis asked, laying his uniform over the back of the chair for a moment.
> 
> Athos did not immediately respond but looked over both items in his hands with narrowed eyes, as if he were trying to discern the mistake for himself. But in the end, he shook his head and moved back toward his friends with a look of confusion beginning to form on his face. "He was right. The Queen did write to you," he said as he handed the letter to Aramis. "And I would know Katherine's handwriting after all these years."
> 
> D'Artagnan accepted the package with a frown, glancing down at the tiny little note that seemed to have been pinned to the top of the wrapped bundle, which weighed next to nothing as he balanced it in one hand. It was written in Katherine's hand all right, he recognized the small elegant way in which she wrote many of her letters, having often teased her in her youth for writing secrets that she wanted no one else to read because it always looked so small to most eyes. He glanced upward at Porthos, who simply shrugged before he turned his gaze over toward Aramis and the letter with the newly broken seal. His dark eyes scanned the page for a moment before he turned his head a little, offering it out to the others to read as well.
> 
> "Queen Anne informs me that I shall not be seeing my daughter until the ceremony tonight," he said, seeing the look of surprise that Athos now wore. "It would seem that Her Majesty has taken it upon herself to prepare Katherine for the evening."
> 
> A look was exchanged between Athos and Aramis as the letter changed hands, a silent communication that left both of them feeling a little unsure about what might be waiting for them, or what might be done in their absence. They had still not informed D'Artagnan of their fears yet, afraid that his relationship with Katherine was still tumultuous at best despite his insistence that she had spoken to him and cleared the whole matter up. Porthos scratched his head as he too read the letter, clearly as confused as the rest of them.
> 
> "I forgot that she had been asked to go," he said absentmindedly.
> 
> Athos turned his head sharply to look at Porthos, the frown growing even more on his aged face. "Who asked her to go?" he asked quickly, earning him a strange look from D'Artagnan that he seemed to miss entirely in his haste to learn what had brought his daughter into the proceedings of the ceremony.
> 
> "The King," Aramis replied as the letter was handed back to him. "He was walking with her in the gardens the other day and asked her about the details in our story."
> 
> The news did not seem to sit well with Athos, who immediately jerked his body around to look at Porthos with wide eyes. "And you did not think to tell us until now?"
> 
> Aramis gave his head a small shake, glancing at Athos with warning in his eyes. "Philippe mentioned it to me only an hour or so ago. Though it does account for some of the things that were said in our last meeting."
> 
> His choice of words and the tone in which he spoke alerted D'Artagnan that something else was amiss, something he knew nothing about as he picked the tiny letter off of the package he had been sent and looked at Athos questioningly. "Why is it so important for you to know?" he asked smoothly as he rose gingerly from his place at the edge of the bed and started to walk across the room toward the dresser.
> 
> "Of course Philippe is going to pay her some kind of attention. She is the only other lady at court that he has truly spoken with aside from his own mother, and none of you can deny that Katherine has blossomed into a beautiful creature."
> 
> He did not bother waiting for any of the others to try and dispute the fact before he opened the letter that had been delivered to him, his eyes scanning the page hurriedly before he looked upward and back toward the bed where he had left the parcel. "What?" he breathed, looking back down at the letter again.
> 
> "D'Artagnan?" Aramis approached slowly with an outstretched hand, concern written into his face as he tried to piece together the situation without startling his friend.
> 
> The captain looked up at the sound of his name and blinked quickly, giving his head a bit of a shake before he held the note up a little higher and read it, his voice shaking a little. "Uncle," he began. "I know how much pride you took in wearing your old uniform, and I know that it caused you great pain that I had to force it from you that night. I did not wish for you to wear the blue uniform when you stood beside Papa, Athos and Porthos, so I hope this finds its way into your hands in time for the ceremony. All my love, Katherine."
> 
> Four sets of eyes fell on the wrapping paper that hid Katherine's gift, each wondering what it was that she had done. After a moment of hesitation D'Artagnan finally moved himself back toward the bed and began to pull at the binding until it had released the paper wrapping and stepped back, mouth agape at what he saw. His heart gave a bit of a lurch as he came to recognize the velvety material he had once worn so proudly, carefully folded and stitched up, looking as if it had never been worn a single day. It was his old musketeer uniform, the very one that he had worn to the Bastille the night that they had saved Philippe and he had nearly lost his life. As he turned it over in his hands, eyes scouring the uniform for some kind of marking, he found that not a single one could be seen. Regardless of what Katherine had told him before, it almost looked as if the entire thing had been made for a new recruit, which wasn't possible since they no longer made the uniforms in such a way. Touched by what he saw, D'Artagnan couldn't help but smile. He could only imagine the time that Katherine had taken in order to make this happen for him, knowing how tedious she found sewing to be as it was seen as being a woman's job, and thus one that she shied away from if possible.
> 
> "I do not believe it," he murmured softly, turning it over again to look at it from both sides before he unfolded and held it before him. "How could she possibly have done this?"
> 
> Athos was the first to chuckle, running a hand through his dirty-blonde locks as he watched the astonished look on D'Artagnan's face. "Sometimes I believe you forget just who she is," he said as he glanced between his friends. "I saw the mess it was in once she removed it from you. And I saw the look in her eyes when she remembered what she had had to do in the hopes of keeping you alive."
> 
> Yes, that certainly sounded much more like the Katherine that they knew, Aramis thought to himself as he watched the exchange before him. She would go through a great deal of pain and misery in order to fix the old uniform if it meant that he would be able to wear it next to his three friends at the ceremony. And in doing all of that, she would secretly see his wearing the black uniform as a gesture of resistance against Louis and the old order he had created, especially following his aid to save Philippe from spending the remainder of his life in the Bastille for crimes he had not committed.
> 
> "Perhaps my concern for her was misplaced," he said aloud, smiling despite himself at the gesture of love that his daughter had shown toward one of the most important men in her life. "And perhaps, it is time for us to prepare for the ceremony."
> 
> Shaking his head a little to return to the present moment, D'Artagnan established eye contact with Aramis briefly before he nodded in agreement and allowed himself to set the uniform back on the bed. If Katherine was indeed to attend the celebrations that night then he knew he would have a chance to find her and thus thank her for the pains she had taken on his behalf.
> 
> "We must not keep the King waiting," he said with a small smile, adjusting the way in which the collar of his shirt sat against his shoulders. "It would cause a scandal if we were late for our own party."
> 
> Laughter spread between the four men as they each began to move about the room in preparation for the evening, knowing that they would now be able to present themselves before the King in identical uniforms that Philippe was sure to privately like much better than the blue that they had faced before. And now that D'Artagnan had recovered enough to at least walk himself down the length of the ballroom before the King, there was even more to celebrate. Katherine's healing had done wonders, and while he was not yet ready to return to active duty and intense physical movement, it was proof that he was on the mend for the better. Shirts were thrown around between them and boots placed near the fire to warm before they would be worn. There was not much that they needed to do in order to prepare themselves, but the moments that they spent together reminded them of the times that they had dashed off on their wild adventures for King and country as young men. Athos fondly remembered how a young D'Artagnan had come to musketeer headquarters in time to find them disbanded under Cardinal Richelieu, and how he had ended his first day in Paris with a duel arranged between himself and each of the three men separately at varying hours. Porthos roared with laughter when he thought about the moments in which he had first met his young friend, insisting that he could have taken him in a duel without issue had the time come for their swords to cross.
> 
> But it was Aramis who brought up the fight between themselves and the Cardinal's guards. They had fully intended to push D'Artagnan away and not count him in their odds against the mightier number of red uniforms, but he had insisted on being involved. And so they had fought, though they all knew that duelling was against the law, and won the day with the help of their young Gascon friend who had come to join the musketeers as his father had done before him.
> 
> "We were much younger then," Aramis said with a chuckle from where he now sat in the chair at the desk. "Riding hard for Calais to intercept messengers from the Cardinal was much easier."
> 
> The others all nodded from their various places about the room, pulling on boots or straightening shirts as they finally settled into dressing themselves for the night. "Getting out of bed each morning is slowly requiring more strength than it did in the past," Athos said with a bit of a sigh, adjusting the way his boot hugged his calf.
> 
> D'Artagnan could not help but smile to himself as he pushed gingerly from the side of the bed until he was standing completely on his own two feet, understanding exactly what it was that Athos was experiencing. And while he hoped that the feeling was only temporary, he could not shake the idea that he might perhaps be forced into a much slower pace of life for the remainder of his days. He knew that he had been lucky to recover at all from the wound he had received at Louis' hand that night, and that his mobility was sure to be impaired now that damage had been done to that side of his body. There was no real way of knowing what he would be able to do when he returned to his post, if indeed he was able to return at all.
> 
> As the hour chimed in the distance from the tolling of the church bells, Porthos removed himself from his chair and strolled toward the window, glancing down at the people who had begun to arrive. "We should perhaps make ready," he suggested, allowing his eyes to watch a carriage unload its passengers before it moved further up the lane in order to make room for the next one. "Guests are beginning to arrive."
> 
> Without another word the four men pulled their black tunics over their heads and slipped their arms through the sleeves, brushing away any flecks of dust that might still be in the material. The formal occasion they were about to head into did not require their hats, and so they had been left behind in other rooms, but they had previously debated about whether to carry their swords before the King or not, just in case something should happen over the course of the night. In the end, it had been Athos who suggested that the swords remain behind and that daggers be concealed in their boots as a preventative measure. No one thought at there would be any need for them that night, but they could not be too careful after their own attempts to replace Louis with Philippe. They turned to one another in silence and nodded silently before they walked toward the door, anxious to see the plan work and remove them from any lingering danger. And if all went well, Philippe would be secure on his throne as a better version of the King they had had before.


	18. Chapter 18

> "Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan!"
> 
> All eyes moved toward the open door and the four figures in black who stood in their perfect line, postures straight and tall as they prepared to make the journey down the center of the ballroom before the court and the numerous guests who had been invited to witness the ceremony. Together they began to move, their pace a little slower than usual to accommodate for D'Artagnan's recovery, passing by the endless sea of people without moving their eyes from their destination. Despite the carpet that had been laid out on the floor there was still a sound that echoed through the hall as they took each step toward the throne and the regal figures who awaited them, reverberating loudly against the marble surfaces of the ballroom floor and pillars. The King waited at the very end, standing before his throne with both arms behind his back and a small smile lit upon his face. Queen Anne remained on her throne, her hair once again loose around her shoulders as she watched the procession approach them. Both had chosen to dress in colours of scarlet and gold for the occasion, proudly displaying their wealthy and lineage to all that looked upon them from the floor. And as the four men reached the end of the carpet they moved to kneel before their King, D'Artagnan pressed tightly to Aramis for a moment as he was aided to the floor and then quickly moved apart to hide the fact that he was still suffering from his wound. Bowing their heads respectfully, they waited as Philippe took a few steps forward and looked down upon them.
> 
> "The four of you have shown me great loyalty and love by saving my life and preventing an impostor from taking my throne," came Philippe's strong voice, ringing clearly through the ballroom. "This I can repay with gold and medals and titles. But what I cannot repay is the debt I owe you for saving the people from France from being led by one who would not care for their well-being. This incident has opened my eyes to the needs of my people, and I now understand their anger toward me for having ignored their cries for help."
> 
> The court was still as they drank in the words of their monarch, but Porthos wondered just how many of them were silently thinking of the things that Louis had done in the past few weeks, remembering how the riots had begun and orders for people to be shot had been issued. Those were the people who had feared their King and hated any mention of his name, the people who would never be invited to celebrations such as this. And yet here, as he stood before but a handful of his subjects, he could clearly hear Philippe denouncing his brother as the would-be impostor that would have caused much more suffering if he had been given the chance.
> 
> "I owe you thanks for saving my country," he continued, his voice a little softer and much more intimate than it had been moments ago. "And for that, I reward you with these."
> 
> A footman stepped forward and bowed his head, offering out the pillow on which rested four medals of silver encrusted with a large sapphire in the middle of the moon-shaped design. Each hung from a black ribbon that then connected it to a pin, the way in which it would be placed upon their breast and left to rest against their heart. Philippe removed the first one from the pillow and moved to the far side, raising Athos to his feet so that the medal could be pinned to his uniform as he continued to speak before the court with the same commanding tone as before.
> 
> "Your courage to step forth when no other could do so is something to be admired by all musketeers; past, present and future." Next he moved to Porthos, repeating the gesture of asking him silently to rise to his feet as his hands busied with the process of leaving the medal upon his broad chest. "You have proven yourselves to be more than worthy of the uniforms you wear." Philippe turned and stepped down the line, standing before Aramis who rose slowly to his feet and stared ahead of him, avoiding eye contact with his King to keep with courtly protocol. "And I know that I am being served by the very best." His footsteps carried him at last to D'Artagnan, the captain of his musketeers as he looked down at the man with compassion in his eyes. "As was my father before me."
> 
> D'Artagnan braced himself, knowing that this would likely be the most difficult part of the entire evening for him. As the youngest of the four being honoured, he knew that he should have risen the easiest and stood tallest before his King, but the weakness he still experienced from the stab wound on his back was proving to make things far more difficult than he would have liked. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth in preparation for the pain that was to come, missing entirely the wave of Philippe's hand as he gestured for someone to come forward and aid in his movements. It felt like he had not moved at all despite the pain that shot through his back, resigning himself to the idea that he would need some kind of help when he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.
> 
> "Allow me."
> 
> His bright blue eyes shot up with a turn of his head, wide in surprise to see the familiar smile that looked upon him now as she offered out one of her smaller hands to him. There was only a glimmer of remembrance in his mind of his present location when he saw her, almost mistaking her for someone else entirely when he saw the way in which she was dressed. But he dared not say anything to her now, not with the whole court watching the elegant figure of a woman step forward to help him to his feet. Instead D'Artagnan simply nodded and took her hand, pushing himself against the cold floor until at last he could stand upright beside his friends. His eyes remained on her for a moment as she stepped back into her place slowly, his mind still reeling from seeing her there in such a manner.
> 
> "You were willing to give your own life to save mine," Philippe said, bringing D'Artagnan's attention back to the King and his reason for standing there. "Even if it meant that you would be leaving your friends and family, you were willing to give your life to protect your King. No man, whether he be the richest of kings or the poorest of paupers, could ever repay such an act."
> 
> There were no words to be spoken as the younger musketeer shared a small moment with his son, a moment that would not be seen by anyone else save for those who knew them best. And while the three men who stood beside him could not look over toward the King and his faithful captain, Queen Anne could, and there was no mistaking the look of pride she wore on her face at that moment. Her dark eyes turned slightly to share a glance with the girl who stood just behind her lover, the corners of her mouth perking a little when they too shared a secret message between them.
> 
> "As a man, I owe you my life," he said, looking now between the four of them as he stepped back a little and rose up the few steps to be seen over their heads. "But as a King, I owe you the welfare of my people."
> 
> Applause rang clearly through the ballroom as the various nobles began to shout their approval and good wishes for the four men, all of whom turned from their King and bowed to the people. It felt as if the room would shortly begin to shake from their combined enthusiasm before Philippe waved his hand and brought about silence once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, there is one other person I wish to honour and introduce to you tonight."
> 
> Murmurs rose softly among them as people began to turn in confusion and confide with their neighbor, wondering what else was in store for them. The four musketeers looked at one another with the same looks, unprepared for the sudden change in plan as they turned their heads to look up at Philippe, who simply smiled in return. With their questioning glances they stepped backward and to the side of the carpet, turning their attention to the person who stood directly across from them with a look of sheer terror written across her face.
> 
> "Katherine," came the King's soft voice as stepped down a little and offered her a hand. The whispers came to a halt as everyone strained to catch a glimpse of the person to whom the King spoke, leaning against each other as they tried to see from various angles.
> 
> Very slowly she stepped forward with light clicks of her heels against the marble flooring, her skirts swishing around her legs with each movement. The gown of silver and blue had been removed from the box and put onto her thin form under Queen Anne's watchful eye, the skirt lacking a number of petticoats underneath to give it a larger appearance as she had thought it to be far too much on the girl. The neckline was cut low enough to preserve her maiden modesty but allowed people to know that it was not the figure of a girl that lurked beneath it as tiny mounds of cleavage were visible. And for her hair, the Queen had done something that had initially made Katherine a little uncomfortable when she had brought forth a pair of scissors and began to snip away at the ends. But when she had finished it was still reasonably long, coming well past her shoulders so that she could manipulate it however she desired when the night was over. She had had it twirled a little to create little curls in the ends, pulling the sides of her hair back and up to be decorated with tiny white rosebuds that had been picked from the very gardens in which she had strolled with Philippe before. On her hands she wore no rings for she owned none, nor did she wear any other type of jewelry, which made her stand out all the more in a court full of bright colours and glittering diamonds.
> 
> Katherine lifted her hand and allowed him to wrap his fingers lightly around it as he led her to the middle of the carpeted floor, to the very spot in which her own father had stood only moments before. "Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to present to you Mademoiselle Katherine, the daughter of Aramis," he began, lifting his voice to be heard from all corners of the room. "This brave young woman was also present when my life was endangered by the impostor, fighting off men who came for me with skills I never thought a woman to possess. And when all was said and done, it was she who saved the life of D'Artagnan."
> 
> Philippe raised his hand, motioning toward the captain who continued to watch Katherine and Philippe, though his eyes had softened considerably since his son had first offered out his hand to his niece. "When the impostor came to realize that their plan had failed and he would lose his chance at the crown, he rushed forward to end my life with a dagger, which D'Artagnan took in my place. And while any of us would have seen his actions as a final move to protect his King, she saw it as a wound that she could heal, another soul that she could save."
> 
> She could feel every eye on her as Philippe continued to sing her praises before the whole court, wanting desperately to turn her head and look back toward her father though she knew it would be seen as a snub for her to turn away from the King. All she could do was stand there and feel her body trembling, the warmth creeping over her skin as tiny beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. "For your bravery, and your part in saving my life, I wish to give you this."
> 
> Philippe turned away from her to take a small box from the pillow that was presented by yet another footman and presented it to her, opening the top of it to show what lay inside. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing that Katherine had seen in her life, a simple necklace of silver on which dangled a cross of the same colour, large enough to be seen by someone a short distance away but small enough to decorate her throat without looking to be as gaudy as the items of jewelry worn by so many other women. Katherine was absolutely speechless as she looked upon it, her blue eyes stuck on the gift before they moved slowly upward to meet the smiling eyes of her King. Licking her lips, she lifted her voice and curtsied low.
> 
> "Your Majesty does me a great honour. But my reward for all of this is seeing you secured in your rightful place on the throne, and knowing that I helped to save the life of an innocent man who means a great deal to me."
> 
> He allowed her to remain in her position for only a moment before he gently lifted her back to her feet again, reaching around the back of her neck to clasp the chain together himself and then admire the way in which it sat against her skin. "You honour yourself, and your family, by being who you are," he told her, a little more softly so that his words were not heard the same way that they had been previously.
> 
> Daring to lift her head a little, Katherine again made eye contact with her monarch and could not help but feel a smile grow on his lips, which seemed to cause a reaction in Philippe as he lifted his body to face his people and clap his hands. "Go. Greet your family. Musicians! Play!"
> 
> The instant they heard the clap of the King's hands, the musicians in the hall struck up a lively tune that told all who were present that it was time for the better part of the evening. Couples instantly formed in the center of the floor as all others moved off to the side to avoid being dragged into the dancing, and Katherine turned away from Philippe in time to see the four musketeers approach her. Smiling brightly at them, she stepped slowly in their direction until they met, and Katherine dropped herself into a curtsy before Aramis.
> 
> "Father."
> 
> Aramis was absolutely stunned by what he saw when he looked down at the figure who lowered herself before him, his chest swelling with pride. A hand reached forward and gently touched her chin, prompting her to look upward at him as he beamed brightly down at her. "Katherine." Laughter sounded as she rose to her feet once more and quickly embraced him, her eyes closing tightly when she felt his strong arms encircle her form as they had so often in her childhood.
> 
> "My God, Katherine look at you!" Porthos cried, stepping forward to sweep her into a hug that twirled her around the floor as soon as she had parted from her father.
> 
> "You look beautiful, my dear," Athos agreed, moving for his own turn to hug his niece.
> 
> Blue eyes glanced between them as she absorbed their acknowledgment of her appearance that night, seeing that they had finally come to understand just how grown up she had become when they were not looking. But it was to D'Artagnan that Katherine looked last, swallowing in nervous anticipation to know just how he viewed her now. "Are you displeased, Uncle?"
> 
> Up until that moment, D'Artagnan had succeeded in keeping a neutral face that would not tell Katherine a single thing of what he might be thinking as he looked at her, and having known him for as long as she had, she knew that she could not always be right in her guesses. But the instant she looked up at him with those uncertain eyes, he seemed to relax and offered her a smile of encouragement.
> 
> "I could not be prouder to be your uncle,  _ma petite._ "
> 
> Hearing his pet name for her was all that she needed to move toward him and allow him to hug her tightly, burying her face against his chest, her arms wound tightly around his neck. Neither of them paid much mind to the others who hovered around and looked toward their little group with expectant faces, knowing that they were probably breaking some courtly protocol by allowing a private moment between them. "I do not know how you did it, but thank you," he whispered against her hair.
> 
> Aramis couldn't help but smile as he watched the two of them, noting how gentle his daughter was still being with the uncle who held her so protectively to him. From his place before them, he could see that the bond had been mended. Everything was as it should be, and his worry about having his daughter around the King of France seemed to vanish when he looked upon her smiling face. She looked a little pale to his eye though, he thought to himself. But perhaps that was simply the makeup that Anne had put on her to give her a more even look? He knew nothing of such things, and figured it was best to brush the matter aside as he and his friends surrounded Katherine together.
> 
> "You need not thank me," she murmured back to him, pulling back to look at the dark fabric of his uniform.
> 
> "You really do look lovely, my dear," he said gently as he reached out to touch her cheek again with fatherly affection.
> 
> Katherine couldn't help but beam brightly, glancing down at the dress that she had found herself in that night. "It was all the Queen," she said, holding the sides of her skirt out a little to see the fuller details. "She must have known what the King was planning. Why else would she spend such time on me?"
> 
> Yes, Anne must have known exactly what Philippe had planned to do with Katherine, D'Artagnan found himself thinking as he glanced toward the now occupied thrones. They managed to make eye contact for a brief moment before she turned her head away and looked out at the party, watching the swirling gowns glisten under the light of the candles. But even in that stolen moment that they had shared, Anne had told him everything with those dark eyes of hers.
> 
> "You do not give yourself the credit you deserve," Athos told her, bringing D'Artagnan's attention back to their little group. "The King was right to honour you for saving his life. To have ignored the part you played would have looked badly on him."
> 
> None of them mentioned the fact that Louis would have chosen to ignore any part she had played in the entire thing. If nothing else, he would have seduced her privately until she became his mistress and then shut her out completely, whereas Philippe had never made such an advance on her. No, the poor boy still seemed rather unsure of how to take her despite their stolen moment in the gardens, which was understandable given the circumstances under which he had grown up.
> 
> "His Majesty honoured my family for their bravery," she said softly, looking to each of them in turn. "I could ask for nothing more than to be a loved by men as gallant and loyal as you."
> 
> Silence fell between them as they absorbed her praises, looking down upon her smaller being with pride radiating from their faces. D'Artagnan was the first to clear his throat, straightening his posture a little. "If you will all excuse me, I should go speak with His Majesty."
> 
> But Katherine only shook her head a little. "I promised that I would remain close in case you needed anything." The musketeer opened his mouth to begin protesting, and she quickly jumped to silence him. "I shall not stand close enough to hear." With a bit of a sigh, he nodded and offered Katherine his arm. Before she took it, however, she turned back to look at her father and nodded to him with a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Will you dance with me later, Papa?"
> 
> Aramis gave her no verbal response. Instead he bent himself over his waist and gently picked up her smaller hand in his, leaning over to kiss the soft skin on her knuckles before he turned away and headed for another area of the room. No doubt he would wish to find Andre and ensure that there were no issues with security that night, as he was prone to do when he found himself sitting idle. Her blue eyes watched him go before she moved back toward D'Artagnan and slipped her arm through his, appearing to hold tightly to him when in fact she knew that he was leaning a little of his weight against her frame already.
> 
> "We should take a walk around," Porthos suggested as he too watched Aramis go. "To make sure everything is alright."
> 
> Athos nodded his head in agreement and glanced over at Katherine, a smile growing on his face. "Keep him out of trouble, my dear."
> 
> "Of course, Uncle," she said brightly, looking up at the dark hair man whom she held onto.
> 
> D'Artagnan looked down at his niece with a soft smile before he bowed his head to his friends and began to slowly walk them in the direction of the thrones, keeping his steps as even as possible so that he was not entirely relying on Katherine to keep him steady. He knew that there were eyes upon their every move now, and so remained careful to keep his eyes at a respectable level as they came to stand before Philippe and Anne, both of them paying their reverence with far more ease than they had when first they arrived at the palace.
> 
> "Your Majesties," he said in his strong tone, holding himself in his bow for a moment before he slowly lifted his body again. "I owe you thanks for the honours you have bestowed upon myself and my friends tonight."
> 
> Philippe shook his head, looking down upon the two of them with a genuine smile. "You owe no thanks to me," he said. "I should be thanking you, more than I have. You, and your family," he said with a nod toward Katherine, who felt her cheeks warm under the gaze of the King as she quickly bobbed herself into another curtsy.
> 
> "My Lord shows great kindness by acknowledging me in such a manner after he has so honoured my family."
> 
> Even with her eyes downcast, she could imagine the smile that Queen Anne wore was the very same one that she had seen since her arrival, sensing that the older woman had decided to take a positive approach to her presence at court when she clearly knew nothing about it. Only when she felt the gentle touch of a hand to her cheek did she dare to look up, rather startled to suddenly find herself so close to Philippe as he leaned forward and whispered softly to her. "You made yourself  _my_  family when you saved D'Artagnan."
> 
> Katherine swallowed but seemed otherwise frozen as she continued to look up at Philippe with wide eyes. Something in the way that he looked at her made everything about the room they stood in suddenly feel warmer, causing a blush to creep into her cheeks that did not go unnoticed by D'Artagnan as he stood by her side and glanced toward the two of them out of the corner of his eye. Nor did he fail to see just how intimate a gesture Philippe made toward Katherine as his hand lowered away from her cheeks.
> 
> "Perhaps you might be able to entice my niece to dance, Your Majesty," he said smoothly, earning himself a quick look from Katherine. "I would hate for her to spend the entire evening by my side without enjoying even a little of it."
> 
> The notion brought a smile to Philippe's face as he nodded his consent to the idea, turning to look back at his mother for a brief moment. "Then I will request that you remain here and keep my Mother company," he said a little louder, in case anyone should be eavesdropping on their conversation. "In case she should need anything while I am gone."
> 
> The captain quickly bowed before his King and detached himself from Katherine before moving around to do as he was bid, leaving the poor girl to watch him go with her mouth hanging slightly open. Had that really just happened? Blue eyes turned back to Philippe and the hand he now offered to her, suddenly very aware of her surroundings and the people who were sure to be watching her every move.
> 
> "I do not really know how to dance," she whispered quickly, hoping to perhaps spare herself from any potential embarrassment. "We do not have a need for such a thing back home."
> 
> But Philippe would not be refused it would seem, as he signaled to the musicians to play a slower tune. "A simple waltz," he told her softly. "I know you can."
> 
> As much as she absolutely wanted to say no, she knew it would look badly upon her to refuse the King after he had shown her such favour before the whole court. Inhaling slowly, Katherine nodded her dark head and gently placed her hand in Philippe's, feeling his fingers curl softly around her own as he turned and began to lead her into the center of the ballroom floor. Somewhere in the room she knew that her father and other two uncles were probably watching the whole exchange, wondering why she was dancing with the King. And while Anne had indeed given her brief instruction on how to properly execute a waltz while she was preparing Katherine for the evening, the girl was not at all confident in her abilities. She could hear each individual click of her heels as she stepped across the floor as if time had suspended itself before her, the petticoats of her gown brushing slowly against the bare skin of her legs. Her heart raced when she turned to look at Philippe and saw him step forward, adjusting his arms into the proper position for the dance. One was placed on her waist to give him better control for turning and guiding her, while the other held one of her smaller hands in his. Her second hand moved to touch his shoulder, barely making contact with the material of his jacket for fear of gripping him tightly in her anxiety.
> 
> "Relax," he whispered, looking down upon her with the same gentle smile that his mother wore.
> 
> All of a sudden there was no one else in the entire ballroom. She heard nothing around her but the music that the musicians had begun to play and saw nothing more than Philippe's smiling face as he gently began to guide her steps around the floor. The steps were small and hesitant at first, her body trembling in his grasp at the idea of stepping on his toes or tripping over the skirts of her gown. But as the music continued to play Katherine could feel a sense of ease overtake her and her mind slowly wandered away from the anxiety that she had previously felt. Her eyes locked onto Philippe's as he twirled her slowly, giving her waist a little push to the one side to let her unwind from him and then carefully move back toward him, this time a little closer than before.
> 
> "I thought you said that you did not know how to dance," he said to her with a grin. "I think you were lying to me."
> 
> She could tell by his tone of voice that he was teasing her, his voice much lower than the commanding tone that he had used to address the whole room. "If you were not leading me, I do not think I would be doing nearly as well," she admitted as the warmth returned to her cheeks, burning further when she heard Philippe chuckle gently down at her.
> 
> "Nevertheless, you are doing quite well. And if I may...you look beautiful."
> 
> All at once it felt as if her heart had stopped beating in her chest when her eyes made contact with his, hearing his words flutter about her at having received such a compliment from one such as him. "You are very kind with your praise, Your Majesty," she whispered softly, suddenly finding it a little harder to breathe.
> 
> "And you are deserving of it."
> 
> The pair continued to move their way around the floor as the music propelled them onward, continuing as if there was never a moment before when she had been hesitant about allowing herself to dance in the arms of the King of France. He had eyes only for her, watching the delight radiate from the depths of her blue eyes and into the bright smile that she wore across her lips. And while Philippe was certain that the entire court was sure to be watching them with keen interest, he cared not at all. All that seemed to matter to the young man was the woman who he held firmly in his arms, watching her gracefully turn with each gentle touch that he gave to her waist. Yet as his eyes drank in the very image of her, Philippe took notice of the difference that he felt coming from her since last they spoke in the gardens, noting how warm her body was even through the layers of material that made up her dress. Her face was flushed, a haze beginning to creep into those beautiful eyes as if she had started to see right through him.
> 
> In the midst of this daydream that she seemed to be experiencing, Katherine struggled to discern what was fantasy and what was reality. Everything was slowly swirling together, the edges blurring to prevent any real understanding. But she was growing dizzy as well, far more than she expected to feel with the slow tempo to which they danced. Each turn on the floor sent her head a little faster as she struggled to keep things in focus, her grip on Philippe's arm tightening a little to steady herself. The room had grown terribly warm since she had entered it at the beginning of the ceremony, almost unbearably so. Her dress felt far tighter than it had when she had put it on back in Queen Anne's apartments and her side was beginning to burn again with the same ache that she had experienced in the bathtub. Her breathing began to quicken, her eyes a little wider than normal when she looked up at Philippe, noticing that his lips were moving but that she heard not a sound escape them. His eyes were laced with concern as he looked down at her, speaking her name softly so as not to alert any of the others who had now joined them on the dance floor. But she did not respond, and her face was so pale that he was beginning to fear that something really was wrong with her.
> 
> "Katherine," he muttered to her, trying to hold her a little closer. "Are you alright?"
> 
> Again she failed to respond with any kind of word. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her knees bent forward, sending her into his arms and down toward the floor. Out of instinct Philippe released her one hand and immediately moved to encircle her waist, supporting her body weight with his own until she had been safely lowered to the floor, where he continued to hold her. "Aramis!"
> 
> The crowd seemed to part as the old musketeer came hurrying forward, Athos and Porthos in tow. His dark eyes looked at Katherine for only a moment before he moved to take her from Philippe and into his own arms, struggling a little to stand with her added weight. No longer was she that child that he could pick up and throw over his shoulder with ease, for she had grown and his own body was beginning to feel the years he had spent in service to the musketeers. Athos and Porthos were quick to lend their hands to Aramis as he rose unsteadily to his feet, noticing the grave look that their friend now wore.
> 
> "She is burning," he said to him softly, looking around at the other guests. "We need to move her now."
> 
> Athos nodded, pushing Porthos to accompany Aramis as he did his best to swiftly remove Katherine from the dance floor before he turned to Philippe with a small bow. "Continue with your party, Your Majesty," he told him, eyes watching the faces of those around them as they began to mutter and murmur about what had caused the girl to faint in such a manner. "Do not alert them to anything being wrong. Dismiss it as her being overwhelmed by the party and the honour you have paid her. I will keep you informed."
> 
> And then he too was gone, leaving Philippe to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. He turned back toward the thrones at the far side of the room, noting the look that both his mother and D'Artagnan wore as he struggled to maintain his composure and not run after Katherine's fallen form. Swallowing, he slowly rotated until he was facing a majority of the people who had been invited to attend the ceremony.
> 
> "I'm afraid she was not as used to dancing as she pretended." He smiled to hide his fear and the crowd laughed merrily at his joke. Good, he thought. They seemed to accept his words. Philippe clapped his hands. "Continue!"


	19. Chapter 19

> "Porthos, the door."
> 
> The tone with which Aramis spoke was firm, and Porthos did not hesitate to quicken his steps and push the door aside as they neared Katherine's room. While he currently appeared rather calm on the outside, he knew that his friend was sure to be in a state of panic internally as he moved through the doorway with his daughter in his arms, now unconscious from whatever it was that plagued her. It did not take a brilliant man to know that the girl had not simply fainted from being in the King's arms, or even from the exertion of dancing, as unaccustomed to it as she might be. Her skin was incredibly pale in contrast to the glow her cheeks normally held, and beads of sweat had begun to form on her brow, rolling down across her skin as she shivered beneath them. The difference was baffling Porthos as he watched, noting that while she was clearly warm beneath the skirts and bodice of her gown, her body seemed to be reacting in almost the opposite fashion entirely. He closed the door rather quickly once Athos had made his way inside and hurried over to the foot of the bed where Aramis had lain his daughter lightly across the top of the quilt. For a moment none of them moved, all eyes set on Katherine's still form as if they were momentarily lost for what to do. None of them knew what had caused her to fall so suddenly, nor had any idea that something might have been wrong with her at all. And yet here they were, trying to make sense of the situation.
> 
> "Porthos, I need cool water and a cloth for her forehead," Aramis said quickly, his voice in the same deep rumble as before. "We have to get her out of that corset, she needs to breathe," he added, almost more to himself than to anyone else in the room. "Athos, help me."
> 
> The older man moved himself around the edge of the bed quickly to help Aramis with removing the outer part of the dress from Katherine's body, fumbling with the complicated laces that bound the material so tightly together at her back. It was a far more complicated system then the one that he remembered his dearly departed wife wearing when they had been together, and so it took the two men a moment of tugging at them before Athos finally lost his patience with them and ripped them completely apart with the knife he had in his boot. As each piece began to fall away, Aramis was quick to brush them aside and off of the bed until they lay in a messy heap at his feet, soon joined by the layers of cloth that Katherine had been dressed in for the ceremony. Finally she lay there only in the underclothes that preserved most of her modesty, her hair having fallen in a tangled heap down her breasts while the underskirt had risen just below her knees. Sweat had begun to bead across her forehead as her temperature rose, beginning to soak into the thin layer of clothing that now remained on her body as she lay in her unconscious state.
> 
> Porthos moved back to the bed with the bowl and cloth in hand, but he found that Aramis was no longer looking toward him expectantly. Instead he had caught sight of something else when he was undressing his daughter, something that instantly made him sick with worry when he noted the greenish colour that seemed to appear from underneath the white material. His own dagger was out in an instant as he cut a hole in the side of the fabric and pulled it apart a little wider, careful not to nick her skin with the edge of his blade as he revealed to them all the horror of what had become of her side.
> 
> "My God..."
> 
> The wound was still rather open and fresh, oozing some sort of white puss as the edges of her skin had begun to become green in nature. Blood still ran from it and mixed with the other fluids of her body, creating a small stream down her side and onto the bed beneath her as they now ran freely, without restriction. In the time that she had been taking care of D'Artagnan, for whatever reasons, Katherine had neglected her own health. He had seen these kinds of wounds before, the ones that were set upon by infection because they had not been properly treated in time. Many people came into the monastery with such affflictions, but not many of them were ever able to leave on their own accord.
> 
> Horrified by what he saw, Aramis found that his body did not want to move from the position he was in as his eyes continued to stare at her side in disbelief. How could she be so foolish as to neglect herself in such a way? She knew what would happen if she did so, for Katherine had often tended to such things in the infirmary herself.
> 
> "Aramis," came Porthos' voice as he gently placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and pulled him away.
> 
> Athos stepped in with the water and cloth that Porthos had managed to hand to him, pressing the now damp cloth to the different points of her forehead in an effort to cool her. "We need to send for the physician," he said quickly, his own eyes upon the still form of his niece as he concentrated on his task. "The longer we wait, the more danger she is in."
> 
> Still Aramis said not a word, his mind to overcome with the remembrance of seeing so many wounds like that before in his time as a musketeer, knowing the signs of dangerous infection before they claimed the lives of several of his friends. And now that same illness had fallen upon his daughter from her own hand as she neglected her health in order to save someone else. Were they now too late to save her life? Just the thought of losing Katherine made him weak in the knees, feeling as though someone had punched him in the stomach and cut out his heart all at the same time. Losing Katherine? No...no, he was not sure that he could endure such a thing.
> 
> Seeing his friend in such a catatonic state of being meant that he would not prove to be overly useful at the moment, and so Porthos gently guided him to a chair and lowered him into the seat before he moved back to Athos, trying to assist as best as he could.
> 
> "We need the physician," Athos repeated, his voice low as if not to disturb Aramis. "Find him, and quickly. Then go back to the ballroom and tell D'Artagnan, but stay with him. Someone needs to be there to keep an eye on Philippe."
> 
> There was but a small nod before Porthos was out the door again, racing down the corridor as if it was his own life that depended on the location of the physician who was sure to be somewhere in the palace. Others were quickly alerted along the way that the need for a medical professional was great, sending numerous others on the hunt for one who might be able to provide them all with hope that Katherine might yet recover from the injuries she had sustained. Servants and fellow musketeers alike were sent on the hunt, passing the message along themselves until at last Porthos was able to make his way into the ballroom, where the dancing had continued in their absence. Noting that Philippe was in conversation with Andre and carefully watched by other musketeers in the room, Porthos slipped over to the side where D'Artagnan stood near the Queen and bent forward to murmur in his ear.
> 
> "She is not well," he said quickly, eyes darting about the room to ensure that they were not being observed. "Her side has become infected and she has a fever that looks dangerously high. We have sent for a physician."
> 
> D'Artagnan's eyes widened as he looked over at Anne, who heard their small exchange and met his gaze with a look of concern. "Where is she?"
> 
> Porthos shook his head briefly, then nodded toward the regal figure who stood a short distance away. "We must remain here. Athos wishes for us to keep our watch over the King. He and Aramis are with Katherine now, but Aramis is in shock."
> 
> "I will go," came the gentle whisper of the Queen, leaning her body forward slightly to address the pair directly. "Athos will need help until the physician arrives if Aramis is not coping, and I am the only one who will not be questioned for my absence."
> 
> Neither man was given time to argue as Anne rose elegantly to her feet and the people around them began to bow and curtsy in her direction. They followed suit and lowered their heads to her as she passed them, knowing that Philippe would take notice of her leaving and surely come to question them of what was happening with Katherine. D'Artagnan could not ignore the quiver of fear that he felt in his heart, remembering the night when he had last asked to see the wound that she had received that night in the Bastille. She had refused to let him see it then, insisting that it was not something that required his attention at the time. And when Anne had come secretly to see him, his mind had been so clouded over that he had forgotten to ask his niece about it again. If he had been more concerned for her well-being then his own, then perhaps she might have been spared from the ordeal entirely. But what of Katherine's own intentions? Should she not have been caring for herself just as she had been caring for him? Was her health not a priority that she had taken careful watch of? Knowing that she had spent more time on him then she had on herself made the captain feel guilt crawl angrily around in his stomach, twisting it into such tight knots that he feared he might fall ill as he stood there.
> 
> Katherine, their Katherine, had neglected the needs of her own body in order to administer to his, sacrificing her health to ensure that he would recover from what might have otherwise have been a fatal stab wound. She should never have been allowed to accompany them that night, he thought furiously to himself as he recalled the shock that had overtaken him at seeing her there. No matter how stubborn she was, nor how much she had begged and pleaded with Aramis as they hid from the musketeers, she should never have been permitted to get involved. That one night was the entire reason for the situation she was in now. Only in guarding Philippe had Katherine permitted her guard to be let down, blood running from the gash in her side as they rounded the corner to hide themselves within the corridor…
> 
> "I know you want to go," Porthos whispered to him quickly, seeing the look upon his face. "But Athos needs us here, to protect Philippe."
> 
> Yes, of course. Someone needed to remain in the ballroom to keep an eye on Philippe and ensure that no one tried anything they shouldn't in the presence of the King. There were other musketeers wandering about the room with their eyes widen open for signs of danger, but nobody would guard the boy the way that D'Artagnan and his friends would, especially after all of the trouble that had gone into bringing the boy back into the world of the light. And as D'Artagnan raised his eye to scan the floor again for signs of his son, he saw that Philippe was already on his way back over toward the pair with a look of concern beginning to creep into his features.
> 
> "What news of Katherine?" he asked them.
> 
> Porthos looked toward his friend, hesitant to share the news with the boy for fear of him wanting to leave the party himself to see her. It was painfully evident that he had taken a fancy to their niece in the time since they had come to stay at the palace, but to inform him of the truth at this moment would only dampen his spirits for the remainder of the evening and cause whispers to begin among his guests. For the time being, as he could see in the glance that D'Artagnan delivered to him, he knew it would be wise to tell him a small lie. He could be told later.
> 
> "She is resting, Your Majesty," D'Artagnan told Philippe with a small bow to acknowledge his presence before them. "Katherine is unaccustomed to such finery and I'm afraid she was rather overwhelmed."
> 
> But Philippe gave them a look that neither of them had ever seen before in his eyes, one that instantly told them of how much he disregarded their words. "She grew hot in my arms, and has grown far warmer over the past several days. I know she is not well."
> 
> A soft sigh escaped D'Artagnan's lips. "As soon as it is appropriate for you to leave your guests, we will take you too her. But you have to maintain your presence for a short while longer."
> 
> This did not sit well with Philippe at all. Despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't likely have any sort of interest in Katherine considering the amount of time that they had truly known one another, he couldn't help but feel that attraction toward her. She had been amazing that night in the Bastille, a goddess upon the earth who had stepped forward to save him from the death that otherwise might have been awaiting him. He knew that the others would have done their level best to protect him when they had found themselves trapped in that corridor, but they were outnumbered, there was no denying that. Only Katherine had stood between Philippe and the number of musketeers who had been ordered by Louis to kill him, a sword in her hand and held at the ready even as the blood rushed from the wound on her side. She had not allowed her injury to slow her or prevent any delay in the order she had been given by D'Artagnan to protect him from danger.
> 
> "Very well. But only a short while more.'
> 
> Both men bowed to acknowledge his words, taking great care to note the tone in which he spoke to them. They would not be able to keep him in the dark for much longer, but neither of them knew the extent of the damage that had already been done to her body by her negligence. And until they were able to leave the dancing and the music behind, none of them knew what they were to expect when at last they reached her chamber.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Sweat continued to bead off of her forehead as she shivered beneath the blankets and quilts that had been piled on top of her body, the cloth replaced upon her skin to try and cool her just a few degrees. The court physician had been found a short while before and immediately set about working on the girl he was presented with, giving orders to a few servants as he pushed the layers aside to better examine the side of her body as her father and uncle watched the movements of his body closely. It would be a lie for the man to say that he wasn't intimidated by the very presence of the two men who seemed to guard the young woman so closely in her immobile state. Even so, he went about his work as quickly as he could.
> 
> Aramis remained in the chair that he had been lowered into earlier, hunched over with his forehead pressed against his clasped hands and his eyes closed while his lips moved urgently in prayer. He had paid precious little attention to the physician after the man had been rushed into the room and directed to Katherine's side, but Athos was more than willing to take up the post that Aramis abandoned for the time being. Every single movement that the physician made with his body was noted in his mind, eyes carefully watching the way in which he handled the unconscious form of his niece to ensure that all respect was being paid to her. And when finally the corner of the quilt was placed down around her again, it was Athos who immediately moved to the man at her bedside.
> 
> "Well?" he asked, his voice almost demanding in tone.
> 
> The physician swallowed slowly to compose himself. "I am afraid that it does not look well for her, Monsieur. The wound has become infected and spread into her blood, which may well prove to be fatal if her fever does not break in the next day or two."
> 
> Athos turned back to Aramis, watching as he rose slowly to his feet after crossing himself and shuffled along the floor in their direction. It was at that moment that Athos truly saw the years being reflected in the face of the priest, noting how he no longer held that spark of youth that he had used to compel them all forward into this plot in the first place. The lines in his face seemed to be etched deeper into his skin, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever before. In that second, Athos saw far more of the old man that he had become then the young musketeer he had once been.
> 
> "So there is nothing we can do?"
> 
> The physician shook his head gravely. "Watch over her and pray."
> 
> He gave a nod to the two men before he shuffled out the door and left them alone with their patient, almost wincing at the defeat that had sounded in the words lately spoke to him. It would certainly take a miracle from Heaven in order to keep that poor child alive, he thought, for he had seen many infections spread like that before, though none of them had ended happily for the people who had them. Her fate was entirely in the hands of God now. But he would go to the chapel and pray for her soul. A child that young did not deserve such an untimely and painful death such as that. He sighed lightly to himself. And she was such a pretty little thing too.
> 
> Athos continued to watch Aramis with attentive eyes, noting how his gaze never once left Katherine through that whole exchange. "You cannot blame yourself for this," he began slowly, reaching forward to place one of his hands atop of Aramis' shoulder. "None of us knew that she would disregard her own injury, not when we know of the things that Katherine has seen."
> 
> "Aramis."
> 
> The pair turned their heads back to the doorway in time to see Anne push it aside and quickly close it behind her again, crossing the distance between them just in time to raise a hand and prevent the pair from bowing to her. She still wore the clothes that she had chosen for the ceremony that night, telling them that she had been given the news and rushed away from the party in order to see how the young woman was doing with her own eyes. A single look at Aramis and Anne was painfully aware of how dangerous the situation really was, her dark eyes snapping to the immobile figure on the bed. It was only the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the quilts that assured Anne of the life still within her body, her own heart beating rapidly in fright. Only hours before had this girl been in her company, and while she had seemed rather embarrassed by the attention Anne had paid her, she had seemed to be in far better health then she was now.
> 
> Anne moved slowly toward the bed, lifting her skirts so that she could sit down on the edge and place a hand against Katherine's burning skin. "I saw the physician leave," she stated simply, reaching forward for the cloth that lay within the bowl beside the bed. "I do not need to be told that he bore no good news."
> 
> To see the Dowager Queen of France looking upon his child like that as she placed the damp cloth to her forehead stirred something in Aramis, spotting a hidden emotion he had never before thought Anne to possess. While he had always loved her as his Queen, there had never before been a moment where her motherly instincts had been allowed to shine through the royal appearance that she had to maintain around others. But in that very moment that he stood there regarding her, he could see the concern that he felt within his own body reflect itself in the eyes of the Queen Mother. She of all people would understand the pain that a parent could endure while they watched their child suffer helplessly from the sidelines, wishing and praying that there was something they could do that might remove the strain from their bodies. And it was she who would surely feel the torment that was eating away at his soul as they stood there in the silence of the room.
> 
> "Porthos was informing D'Artagnan as I left," she murmured softly, as if she did not want to disturb the child in the bed before her as she spoke. She paused for a moment. "What ails her?"
> 
> Athos took a small step forward. "A wound on her side, Your Majesty, from a bullet fired at the Bastille."
> 
> Her dark curls moved slightly as she nodded at his words, her eyes otherwise unmoving from Katherine's motionless form. Fingers reached out to remove the damp locks of hair from her face with tenderness. "While she cared for D'Artagnan?"
> 
> "She ignored her own needs," Aramis confirmed, moving to place himself at the head of the bed as close to his daughter as possible. He looked down upon her for a moment, his shoulders slumping forward with a sigh. "Katherine always put the needs of others before herself. That was how I raised her to be."
> 
> Anne lifted her head, reaching out to touch his arm lightly in a manner that would have earned several stares and gasps from the guests downstairs. "You cannot blame yourself for this, Aramis."
> 
> But the priest shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor once again. "There is nobody else to blame but I," he told them both sadly as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Such habits are ones that were instilled as she grew in my care. I taught her to pay more regard to others then to herself for fear that she might develop a vanity about herself."
> 
> "You could never know that it would become a blatant disregard for her own health," Athos protested quickly as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. "You did not raise Katherine to be a fool. None of us did."
> 
> There was a truth in his words that rang clearly to Aramis, whether he cared to admit it or not. But the fact of the matter remained that his child was lying motionless in the bed before him and there was not a damn thing that he could to do ease her ailment. All that was left for the aging priest to do at this point was pray to God and hope that perhaps there was some form of mercy in store for Katherine in light of all that she had done for others over the course of her short life. Twenty years was far too short, he thought to himself, slumping down into the chair beside the bed despite the protocol that would never allow him to do with in the presence of the Dowager Queen. Compared to the number that he had enjoyed upon the Earth, twenty years was not nearly long enough for someone like Katherine, for she had so many more things that she had yet to experience. And perhaps a part of that was also his fault, for Aramis had kept her fairly sheltered in the monastery to prevent any dangers from entering her life.
> 
> Obviously he had failed her.
> 
> A soft sigh fell from his lips. "Lord, help us."


	20. Chapter 20

> "He blames himself for this."
> 
> Anne nodded sadly to D'Artagnan as she glanced toward Aramis and where he had fallen asleep in the chair beside Katherine's bed, his body hunched forward and spread across the mattress with one of his hands holding firmly to hers. Despite the assurances of his friends that she would never be left alone that night they had been unsuccessful in coaxing Aramis from her side, watching the helpless look in his eyes sink deeper and deeper into his body with each passing hour. Philippe had been in briefly to see her before Porthos had escorted him back to his own chambers, but Anne had not left since she had removed herself from the ballroom hours before. The two of them were now before the hearth, with Anne seated in a chair and D'Artagnan staring heavily into the flickering flames as his mind attempted to make sense of the evening that had unfolded before them.
> 
> "As do you," she observed, turning her dark eyes back to her lover with the same sad look.
> 
> D'Artagnan closed his eyes and leaned even more heavily upon the mantle of the fireplace, exhaling slowly as his hands balled into fists. "I should have known," he murmured to her through grit teeth. "I should have known that something was not right. I saw her wound that night at the Bastille, I asked her about it the first night we were at the palace-"
> 
> Anne was on her feet in an instant, moving to wrap her arms firmly around D'Artagnan's chest and hold him close to her when she heard the change of emotion in his tone. Worry filled her dark orbs as she too looked toward the fire, her mind whirling with how best to handle the situation that had them all so stressed and strained. Were it just one man who was affected by the tragedy then perhaps she might have known better. But this was four men…no, five, she corrected quickly as Philippe's face came to mind. All five of them were affected differently by Katherine's illness, and she would be foolish to ignore the way her own heart beat at the very idea of losing the young woman to such a fate. In the few short days that Katherine had been present at court everything about them had changed, and it was Anne's firmly belief that those changes were some of the best that she had seen since her days as a young Austrian bride.
> 
> "It is not your fault," she whispered soothingly, tightening her arms a little to remind him of her presence as she felt his body quiver against her own. "You could not have known what was happening unless she had told you."
> 
> Despite her efforts, D'Artagnan was not convinced of his innocence in this matter. There had once been a time when Katherine had confided nearly everything in him, from the smallest of sins to the silliest of thoughts and questions that had come to her childish mind. And yet it seemed as though everything had changed overnight since she had helped to save Philippe from the Bastille. Gone was the child that he had known and helped to raise, the child who had innocently asked the questions of life of him without hesitation. The instant it had appeared that they were in trouble that night she had insisted on going along with them despite whatever dangers lay ahead. She had not once thought of her own personal safety, nor truly understood the gravity of what they had been about to do. She knew nothing of Philippe save for his connection to Louis, and yet she had gone with them. Had that been their mistake? Thinking that perhaps she would have been better at their side then left behind to wait in terror?
> 
> Many of these questions had plagued his mind since he had awoken to learn that his niece had been hurt during the skirmish at the Bastille, but they haunted him even more now that they were at risk of losing her all together. And while he knew in his heart that there was nothing he could have done to have prevented her from being present that night, he couldn't help but feel that there was something further he could have done to keep her from harm. As soon as he had seen here standing with the others at the base of the stairs, he should have known what to do. He should have been able to protect her.
> 
> "For years I watched Louis grow, believing himself to be the son of another man and therefore above all who surrounded him." His chest rumbled with each word, bringing Anne's eyes from the dancing flames of the fire and up toward the part of his face that she could see from where she stood. "I protected him with everything that I had, defended him against all others when they sought to discredit him for his actions. I knew nothing of Philippe, but I had Katherine to help ease some of the pain that I felt each day as Louis fell further and further from the path I would have wanted for him."
> 
> The woman nodded silently, letting her thumbs move soothingly against the material of the shirt that was pressed to his chest in her embrace. Nobody understood better than she did what plagued D'Artagnan all those days, for she too had been forced to silently watch her son drift into the darker side of his personality, his compassion for others shrinking more and more each day.
> 
> "She was, in her way, my salvation during those days," the musketeer continued, voice quivering slightly. "If I have failed to protect her…if I lose her…" he swallowed. "I do not know that I will ever be able to forgive myself."
> 
> A silence fell over the room as neither of them continued their conversation. For her part, Anne just didn't know what it was she was meant to say at a time like this, when she knew that words alone could not help the misery and guilt that D'Artagnan was feeling, nor would they be able to heal the wounds that had placed themselves across his heart. For years she had believed Philippe to have died at childbirth and she had carried that ache with her all through the years until at last her husband revealed the truth to her on his deathbed. In that instant there had been a new kind of guilt that had crept into her soul and sat there like a heavy stone placed around her neck. She had missed his entire life, from his first steps to his first word and everything beyond that. Nothing could ever begin to make up for those moments that had been denied to a young mother, no matter how many titles and riches you bestowed upon her in their place. But now that he was here again and within her reach, Anne had every intention of making things right between them. No more secrets, no more hiding…it was time for the truth now.
> 
> Very slowly, she released D'Artagnan from her grasp. "I should go," she murmured softly, allowing a hand to linger on his back as he turned to face her. "There is nothing more any of us can do tonight. We must all rest."
> 
> "Anne-"
> 
> Both heads turned sharply toward the door of the bedroom as it opened itself to reveal another figure entering the room. The tension eased as they noticed that it was only Athos who approached, removing all urgency that the couple had felt at the prospect of being caught in such an intimate moment by one who might not be so discreet. "Rest," he continued in his deep tone, allowing both hands to brush against her arms. "You are right, we can do no more."
> 
> Out of respect for Athos, Anne refrained from leaning up to kiss him goodnight as her heart wished her to do. Instead she simply nodded to D'Artagnan, lingering only a moment longer as their eyes connected before she turned away and headed for the door. Athos lowered his head out of respect, waiting until Anne was safely in the hallway and headed for her own chambers before he closed the door lightly and turned back to the bed and sighed lightly at what he saw.
> 
> "He still has not moved."
> 
> D'Artagnan nodded in silent reply as he too turned to look at Aramis, noting how much his friend seemed to have aged since the beginning of the night when they had all been chatting happily with one another. "No doubt he will feel some discomfort in the morning."
> 
> Neither spoke in comment of the failed attempt at humour, knowing that even if Aramis were to experience the greatest physical pain of his life by sleeping in that position, it would be nothing to the emotional anguish that his heart was sure to feel. The lives that they had chosen had not been easy ones to live. Every time they had donned the uniform of the musketeer they were acknowledging the fact that they might be sent on a mission from which they would never again return, willing to lay down their lives in service to their country and their King. It could be from something as simple as a skirmish with the Cardinal's guards that forced them to their beds with wounds, or perhaps something more dangerous that lead them to English shores in the hopes of preventing a war between two countries that would eventually bring them to their graves. It hadn't mattered what the mission was, as long as they were successful or had given their lives to try and see it accomplished.
> 
> But they had been young men then, foolish to the point of reckless without anything to lose in the world. There had been no wives, no children nor any sort of devotions aside from the ones that they lay before the feet of their King to consider when they rode out each day. Everything was different now though, as the years had proven themselves to be filled with trials and tribulations for men who were fortunate to have survived as long as they had. There was no glory to seek, no riches to be claimed and no adventure to follow. All there was for them now was what they chose to make of the remainder of their lives.
> 
> And chose they had.
> 
> "There is something sinister at work here," Porthos growled in his frustrated tone, slipping into the room to join his friends.
> 
> Athos and D'Artagnan both turned to look at him, but it was D'Artagnan who folded his arms thoughtfully across his chest and lowered his head a little. "You believe so as well?"
> 
> Porthos nodded to him. "I may not be as young as I used to be," he began. "But my instincts have not yet failed me when I have needed them most."
> 
> All three pairs of eyes turned back toward the bed and the two motionless forms that lay upon them, each silently wondering just how correct Porthos was in his feelings. It was true that something within their present situation did not feel right to any of them, but none seemed able to pinpoint what exactly it was that was making them so uneasy. It could be any number of things, including the over-cautious frame of mind that they had adopted with both Katherine and Philippe nearby as of late. And yet the feeling lingered, sinking deeper and deeper into their subconscious with each passing second.
> 
> "All we can do is wait until we are sure," Athos reasoned, rubbing a hand against his tired eyes with a resigned sigh. "Although we share this feeling, I do not think that we can attribute it to Katherine's ill health. All we can do is continue to watch over her closely, and Philippe as well."
> 
> There was but a slight murmur of agreement before each man settled himself somewhere in the room. Their intentions of remaining there were clear, for while Aramis slumbered uneasily beside the unconscious form of his daughter, D'Artagnan and Porthos took the two chairs that lay before the hearth and slowly attempted to make themselves comfortable for the long night ahead. Only Athos remained unmoved, leaning his body against the wood panelling of the room. Should anyone else want to enter the room that night, they would need to make their way past him first.


	21. Chapter 21

> "He's late."
> 
> Teeth grit firmly together in annoyance as feet shifted the weight of the body back and forth, gently rustling a few of the branches from the bush behind which he concealed himself. Between the heavy cloak of dark fabric upon his person and the shadows of the late hour of night it was almost impossible to otherwise tell that there as someone in the gardens who ought not to have been there, his impatience clear by the constant jerk of his head examining all directions. The clock had newly struck two, the party was long since over and he was anxious for the news that was to be brought to him by his hired messenger. And yet being there like this made him incredibly uncomfortable, for memories of every kind flooded back and mocked him silently within his mind.
> 
> A soft wing rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees and bushes as it pushed past them and swept up the edges of their cloaks. It was unusually warm for that time of year, warm enough that external clothing such as a heavy cloak was sure to make the wearer a little uncomfortable, and yet they remained where they were. Concealing themselves from the eyes of the wandering patrolmen was far more important than their personal comfort right then, for it would not do at all for them to be caught within the grounds of the palace. Several of the normal ways in and out of the area were being carefully watched for any signs of intruders who might want to harm the King. No doubt the orders came from either Athos or Aramis, both of whom he now knew to be in residence as well as "guests of the King." But there were several other ways that were not as closely watched, ways that had been created for the quick escape of the monarch if the time came that flight was necessary to keep him alive.
> 
> Oh, how he loved having such knowledge at his disposal.
> 
> There was but one other man who stood with him that night, shrouded by the shadows that formed from the looming moon above. He was there simply for protection, however, in case their meeting should be interrupted by any of those meddling musketeers that might report the news of the presence on the grounds to Athos or one of the others he knew to be at the palace. Apparently D'Artagnan had survived the wound that he had received that night at the Bastille, which only made his lip curl in anger at the thought of yet another foe to face in the future. His death would have proven to be a great asset to his plans, for the musketeers would have lacked the leader that they had come to rely so heavily upon over the past several years. Regardless though, none of them would be able to interfere, for as soon as they discovered what actions were at play against them they would be far too late to do anything about it.
> 
> "Do you want us to return later, sir?" asked his companion in a gruff tone of voice.
> 
> The first figure shook his head. "No," he growled. "We wait."
> 
> Their meeting was one of vital importance to the entire operation, for there was but one person who knew the information that he sought. New developments had forced their plans to change slightly, but upon learning the smaller details that had initially brought about those changes, it looked as if they could work more in their favour then the previous plan would. D'Artganan and his friends would certainly require some maneuvering to get around, but there was a whole other player in the game now for them to manipulate, one who could very well be the lynch pin of the entire operation. No, they had to wait for him to arrive no matter what pathetic excuse he might have for the delay.
> 
> After a further five minutes of waiting, a lone man appeared from the corner of the palace and hurried his way toward the thicker part of the garden where they waited. He too was cloaked against the night to prevent anyone from spotting his face, the hood pulled firmly upon his head which he ducked a little to create more of a shadow upon his features. Each step caused a shift in his body, looking about him to ensure that he was not being followed by any unwanted persons that night until at last he was safely concealed within the gardens as well.
> 
> "I beg for you to forgive my tardiness, but I am afraid-"
> 
> "Just tell me what you know," the first man interrupted, his whisper a harsh command.
> 
> The new arrival looked about him again, noting that the only other person present was the man who lingered behind the first. And since this person seemed entirely unconcerned with him being there, he knew it was likely safe for him to continue where his correspondence had left off.
> 
> "The girl is not well," he began quietly, adjusting his hold on the outside edges of his cloak. "She was removed from the ball and taken upstairs to her rooms after fainting. I got to the physician later on, and he said that she has a nasty wound on her side that has grown to be infected. If her fever does not break by tomorrow night then there is a good chance that she will not survive."
> 
> It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was new information nonetheless. While there was not much to be gained from the death of the girl, he couldn't deny the fact that having her out of the way might also prevent further complications. She had already played a part in recent events and been rather detrimental to what was intended to be accomplished, proving herself to be just as meddlesome as the men who had helped to raise her. If he had known about her sooner then perhaps something might have been done about her. After all, removing her from the puzzle would also cripple Aramis, who seemed to be much of the brains behind their plans.
> 
> "And the others?"
> 
> Again, the informant glanced around him. "D'Artganan continues to recover, but he does not yet have full strength and I doubt that he ever will. The other three are in constant communication with the crown right now, though it is my understanding that Aramis is beside himself with worry over the girl."
> 
> He figured as much. The old man had always been sentimental when it came to the well-being of other people, and he had counted on nothing less when you remembered that he had practically raised his orphan child from the moment she had been left on the steps of the monastery. Others had asked around in his place to learn all that they could of the girl over the last few days, but unfortunately this was all they had managed to dip up. Nobody seemed to know where she had come from before then, had the slightest inkling of who her natural parents were.
> 
> "What of the Queen?"
> 
> No doubt having a young woman at court would affect her in some way. Even if the older woman had never admitted the words aloud, she had always made it clear that she had longed for another child, likely a daughter, over whom she could dote and fawn. In truth she was lucky to have conceived her sons at all with the lack of attention paid to her by the old king if the rumours were to serve true, so a stranger who was caring for another man out of the goodness of her own heart? It would strike a chord with Anne. Add in the fact that this girl had helped to save one of her sons from death and you could almost count her as extended family. That was the kind of attention that the Dowager Queen was likely to spend on this little nothing of a human being.
> 
> "I understand that she has taken quite a liking to the girl."
> 
> The first man nodded wordlessly as he gathered together his thoughts and attempted to sort them out. There were some changes to be seen now that an illness had manifested itself in the girl, but that didn't mean that their plans could not be altered either way depending on how everything turned out. And while he was sure that things would be much easier with her out of the way, he couldn't help but almost wish that she would survive her fever and recover. It would be much more entertaining to know that they could use her as a pawn, feeding information into her mind that would tear her away from those she loved and watch as they slowly broke down before her eyes. It would be the ultimate revenge for all of the trouble that she had caused since that night at the Bastille, when she had prevented the death of the very person who had deserved most to die for his treasonous crimes.
> 
> But revenge was in the works, being carefully pieced together so that there was not a single loose end to deal with when it was all over. This time there would be no mistakes, no errors due to misjudgment. This time there would be only the end, in which the rightful ruler would be replaced upon his throne and the people of France made to pay for their rebellion against his rule. Mercy would not be a word to connect to the crown any longer.
> 
> "Good," he decided slowly, the wheels of his mind turning quickly. "You will continue as you were before. Should she pull through and begin to make a recovery then you will write at once to alert me. I have plans for this girl, and I intend to make her suffer for her sins."
> 
> A thin smile worked its way onto the face of the informant, who nodded and bowed low to the man who addressed him. "It will be as you command."
> 
> He hovered there for only a moment before he turned himself away and hurried back to where he had come from, anxiously glancing about him all the way to ensure that he had not been spotted. And from where he stood in the bushes, a cold chuckle sounded deep within the throat of the first man. Things were turning out much better than he had initially planned. And while he was rather impatient to see those people suffer, he knew that he must remain calm and wait for them to come to him. It was all set and waiting for the moment they took one wrong step. There would be no turning back, no opportunity for mercy. If everything played out the way he desired, then they would first see the tangled mess of human flesh that he reduced that woman to before they met their own ends.
> 
> And with D'Artagnan and the others out of the way, there would be no one left to prevent him from terrorizing her into an early grave.


	22. Chapter 22

> "He's late."
> 
> Philippe paced nervously between the walls of his room, hands folded tightly behind his back with eyes downcast on the floor. The ceremonial robes that would have marked him as King had been shed and thrown carelessly on the edge of the bed near where Anne had quietly placed herself, watching her son with growing concern as the minutes ticked by. Uncertainty lingered in the room like a poison but neither of them dared to speak further in case fears were spoken outright, bringing forth a new manifestation of fear that they were desperately trying to ignore.
> 
> Crowds had been gathering outside of musketeer headquarters all morning, anxious to get themselves a place so that they could hear this mysterious announcement that was being brought to them from the palace. Porthos had stepped into his chambers only briefly to tell him of the news before he left to join Athos and Andre in delivering that speech, the one that would begin the web of lies they had created to serve as their cover story. Philippe felt guilty for misleading the people in such a manner, knowing that for a great number of them, the truth would probably be far more welcome then the thought that their King had seen the error of his ways after an attempt to remove him from his throne. He couldn't help but wonder how many of those people would walk away with a new impression of him…of Louis. Would they truly believe that he had changed? It felt as if there would need to be some kind of large scale miracle for that to happen, which did nothing to ease his troubled mind over the matter.
> 
> And then there was Katherine to think about as well. The physician had said that if her fever did not break by sometime that evening then their chances of losing her would increase dramatically, a thought that made Philippe's stomach churn violently. Aramis had not yet left her side since bringing her up from the ball the evening before, and even D'Artagnan was hard to coax away from the room for too long before he was back inside and watching over her like the parental hawk Philippe now knew his father to be.
> 
> "You must not worry, my son," came his mother's gentle voice as she watched him continue to move throughout the room. "They will return as soon as they are able."
> 
> But the soothing tone of his mother's words did little to erase the worry and fear that were already running rampant through his mind. There were too many things that could happen with this plan that they had created, and while he had the utmost confidence in the men who had saved his life, Philippe couldn't help but concern himself with their safety and well-being, especially now. He could only imagine the frame of mind that Aramis was in at that very moment, hovering by his daughter's bedside day and night as he prayed fervently to God that her life be spared. D'Artagnan too would be close to sharing that same internal panic, for while he had known nothing of Philippe and had been forced to watch Louis from a respectable distance, Katherine had been the one child in his life that he could dote upon without question for all of those years. She was the daughter he had never had, the child who was given the fatherly love and affection that he was unable to shower upon his own children. Not even he could dismiss his feelings in this instance.
> 
> "How long does it take to read the announcement to the people?" he demanded in frustration, his pacing becoming a little quicker as he moved back and forth about the room.
> 
> As he approached the window, Philippe came to a stop, his bright blue eyes looking almost distantly out into the gardens that surrounded the palace. His movement stopped all together, his hands falling to his side as a sigh escaped his lips. From where she had placed herself, Anne watched her son with concern in her eyes before a spark of understanding crossed her mind. While the concern that he outwardly expressed was for the return of his friends from their ride into the city she knew there was something more to his thoughts then what he was sharing. And without a doubt in her mind, Anne would have bet her life that it was Katherine who now clouded his mind.
> 
> He'd taken a liking to the girl, any mother could see that. And despite the lack of knowledge that he was sure to have about women from the number of years he had spent in solitude between his country home and time in the Bastille, he had taken great strides in attempting to tell the girl of his affections for her. She had noticed the way in which the two of them had danced together at the ball the night before, seeing how easily Katherine was led around the dance floor in Philippe's arms and how his eyes never once left her face. D'Artagnan had seen it as well, for he had shared a small glance with her as he continued to keep his watch over his son. And yet she couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be something more in his gaze, something that fell much deeper than simply fear and concern.
> 
> For a moment she hesitated. "Philippe." He turned rather sharply toward her, startled out of his thoughts. "There is more, is there not?"
> 
> Lips pressed tightly together as his eyes turned down to the floor. Words battled for dominance in his brain as he struggled to find the correct way of phrasing things, of somehow dispelling any anxiousness that his mother might be feeling. And yet there was nothing, nothing at all that he could piece together that might persuade her to put aside her concern. In truth, there was nothing he could say that would erase the overwhelming emotion that he found to be taking control of his own consciousness at that moment. But the look in his eyes was one of pure guilt when at last he did lift his eyes to meet his mother's.
> 
> "It's my fault."
> 
> In an instant Anne had risen from her place on the edge of the bed and crossed the room, wrapping her arms tightly around her son as he buried his face against the warm skin of her neck. His shoulders quivered with the tell-tale signs of tears that would shortly follow, his own arms moving to hug her just as tightly to him for some kind of comfort. Anne's fingers gently stoked his hair as she held him, closing her eyes to better center her frame of mind as she began to think of how it was that she would console her son at this time. Was there anything that a mother could say that might actually help to make him feel better? Or was she simply going to make things worse? This was an entirely new part of motherhood that she had previously not known, and so the two of them were constantly testing new waters to see where their developing relationship would go and what it could handle.
> 
> "There is nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening," Anne told him gently with a firmness in her words. "You are not to blame."
> 
> A sob fell from Philippe's lips. "She saved my life that night, Mother. Louis wanted me dead and she kept me alive."
> 
> Casting her glance upward, Anne couldn't help but sent a silent prayer to God, asking that something good come from this situation. "Katherine did as she was asked," she said, allowing her gaze to return to the room once more. "She protected you because she knew that the future of this country rested with your safety, even if she was not privy to all of the details. I would not have let her go out of concern for her own safety, but I trust that Aramis did what he thought was right as her father. And so too must you believe that Katherine did as she believed to be right."
> 
> This did nothing to soothe his heart of the ache that he felt, but he could not bring himself to tell her so. Anne was only doing her duty as a mother, attempting to dispel his concern and put it into an alternative perspective that might be more appeasing to his ears. And yet he found that he was at a loss for how to react now, knowing that there was still some kind of truth that rang clear in her words. His heart told him that he would have reacted the same way if things had been reversed, that had Katherine been in danger that night he would have done his utmost to come to her aid despite having known nothing about her before. She could have left him there, Philippe thought to himself. As the absent brother of a King, especially one who had been as cold and calculating as Louis had been, there was no real reason for her to risk her own life and go with her father and uncles that night. And yet she had gone, allowing herself to place all of her hope for the future in him without knowing even his name. She had dared to let herself believe that there was something better than Louis out there, an alternative that could spare France and her people from the years of cruelty that they had already endured under his reign. Without knowing a single thing about him, save for that he was the King's twin, she had gone to rescue him.
> 
> "We cannot lose her," he whispered against her shoulder, trying to compose himself once more and brush the strands of his hair away from his eyes. " _I_  cannot lose her."
> 
> Straightening his posture and pulling away from his mother's embrace, Philippe inhaled deeply and quickly began to remove the tears from his skin with the back of his hand. It would not do for the King of France to be seen in such a state of emotional turmoil, not when he had just finished a large celebration and laughed off the very thing that he was crying over. No one else aside from his mother understood the way that he felt about Katherine, at least to his knowledge. And for the time being, it needed to be kept that way.
> 
> No sooner had he pulled down the edges of his tunic then the wall to the side began to move, signalling the arrival of another body through the secret passage that had been placed in his quarters for the safety of the King. Having expected there to be a knock at the entrance doors, Philippe jumped a little at the movement and turned himself to face the person who emerged, breathing a slow sigh of relief when he took note of Athos' head becoming visible.
> 
> "Your Majesties," he said quickly, bowing as low as his aging body would allow.
> 
> "How was it?" Philippe asked quickly, brushing a hand aside to show his disliking for the continual bowing that they all seemed to do when there were no other people present who might find out their secret. "Did the people accept it?"
> 
> Athos raised his head slowly and looked between the two other occupants of the room. He could see the nervousness that radiated from Philippe's eyes while his mother had once again taken her place on the edge of the bed, refined and regal in every possible way from her years of experience on a throne. He knew that she too would be feeling the very things that her son was, but she knew how best to conceal it from the eyes of outsiders and so used her skills to her advantage. But there was something else that Athos took note of as he stood there, something that caused a thousand endless questions to prod at his mind. While he saw no tears in the young King's eyes, there were definite traces of red within the whites…had he been crying? What could upset Philippe so deeply that he would become that emotionally overwhelmed? Those questions, however, were not currently being brought forth and so he knew that they would need to wait for another time and place to be dealt with. There were far more pressing things at hand right now.
> 
> "The people seemed to accept your statements with surprise and awe," he reported, watching some of the tension sink away from Philippe's shoulders almost immediately. "They were whispering for a good while afterward about the amount of mercy that was being shown toward these traitors, some of them going as far as to say that they had rather expected a public execution as an example."
> 
> The young man nodded. He had expected that much. While he was slowly working toward earning back the trust of his people, Louis had done a rather remarkable job of destroying their faith in their King, and so Philippe knew that the task ahead of him would be difficult one. But that was a step in the right direction, was it not? Knowing that there had been no riot, no jeers from the crowds as the announcement was delivered to them, that had to be a good thing. And yet the look that Athos wore told him that there was something else he needed to be told, something that might very well put a wrinkle in their plans or cause further worry for them all as they tried to assimilate Philippe in place of Louis.
> 
> "What is it?"
> 
> For a moment Athos did not speak. His eyes were so firmly set on Philippe that he seemed banish away the rest of the room in a single gaze, singling out that lone body for his mind to focus upon. "There are whispers in the streets that something is soon coming."
> 
> Philippe didn't understand and turned his head a little in question. " _Something?_  That is not overly specific, Athos."
> 
> "Nobody seems to know what to expect. But there are rumours being told in the village that all is not well at the palace and that those who attempted to remove the King from his throne are not yet giving up on their task."
> 
> Now he understood the seriousness in Athos' face. They had been the ones to instigate the plot of removing Louis from the throne, not an outside group of people. Hearing that there were rumours of future attempts meant that dangers were sure to follow him even now that things had been set into rights, and so meant in turn that there was someone else who might know the truth of what had happened that night in the Bastille. But there had been no one else there who was not in on the arrangements. Even Andre had been allowed to know most of what had been decided after that, having heard every word that was spoken by D'Artagnan as he believed himself to be dying of the wound that Louis had inflicted upon him. There had been no one else in that room to know the truth of that moment except for one person.
> 
> But that was impossible, and Philippe told Athos so with the firmness of his gaze as he looked back at the aging musketeer with disbelief. "There has to be another explanation for it," he insisted as he shook his head in defiance. "Word must have somehow gotten out from one of the other musketeers who was there."
> 
> "Perhaps," Athos agreed. "But regardless of how this came to be, we still have an issue on our hands. These rumours make it clear that you're in danger and we both know that D'Artganan will not take kindly to this news, especially right now."
> 
> Without saying it out loud both Philippe and Anne understood that this news coupled with the anxiousness that everyone was feeling over Katherine's well-being was sure to cause further strain for their group. And worse than that, there was sure to be even more danger for D'Artagnan as he struggled to repress the new fatherly urges that he was now permitted to display a little more than before. Despite all their efforts to put the past behind them and move on with their lives, there always seemed to be something else that threatened their way of life and the people they cared for most. Would there ever be a day when they were not constantly looking over their shoulders for the next sign of danger that was headed their way?
> 
> "We cannot keep this from them," came Anne's soft voice as she pushed herself back to her feet and approached them to lay a hand on her son's shoulder. "It would not be fair."
> 
> Athos bowed his head in her direction. "No, we cannot. D'Artagnan would never forgive us for keeping this from him," he murmured. "And neither would Katherine."
> 
> Silence filled the room as everyone seemed to pause and say their little prayer for her health before they dared continue, a look moving between the three of them.
> 
> "I should go and check on her," whispered the boy, looking to his mother with pained eyes. "See if there is any change."
> 
> Though there was likely to be none, Anne nodded in silent agreement. He would be accompanied by Athos, for knowing what he did there was no way that the older man would dare leave the boy unattended now. Every shadow would need to be checked, every piece of food that was placed before him would be tested, every goblet of wine sipped to ensure that poisons did not make their way into his body. The musketeers would be on high alert with this new threat looming over their heads, and his small circle of friends would become even more protective then they had ever been before. Their life at the palace would again change, but not necessarily for the better.
> 
> And there was nothing Anne could do about it.


	23. Chapter 23

> "Then we all agree."
> 
> The various people who stood inside the room all nodded their heads in agreement as D'Artagnan's stern gaze flickering over each and every single one of them before it finally came to rest on the King. Philippe was the last to nod his consent before the others were dismissed back to their posts, the guard doubling around the palace to ensure that their monarch would be kept safe from harm. These new rumours were providing quite an upset to their normal routine, and while there wasn't a single man among them who would complain openly about the task that lay ahead, he could only pity them for the toll it would surely take on them. Doubling the guard at this time meant that there would be less time to rest and recuperate between rounds, forcing them all to take up extra duties that were initially intended for more men to handle. Unfortunately, there hadn't been too many young men jumping at the chance to join the musketeers due to the unpopularity of their King, and that meant that Philippe was in even more danger than originally thought.
> 
> One by one the men in blue uniforms shuffled their way out the door until at last only their small circle of friends remained. Aramis had not been present for their meeting as he was still hovering by Katherine's bedside, but they would be able to fill him in on the details later on when they all returned to her room. The deadline set by the physician was fast approaching, something they were all painfully aware of as they watched the others leave and found themselves in a heavy silence. Andre had been permitted to stay this time as D'Artagnan had decided that it was best to include him in everything now. They were down one man while Aramis prayed for his daughter's health, and they needed the extra set of eyes to watch the palace at all times for signs of treachery.
> 
> By the time it was all over, these men were sure to be exhausted.
> 
> As soon as the heavy doors were closed behind the last man, D'Artagnan's shoulders slumped forward a little with a sigh displaying his own tired state of being. There was still an air of authority about him though that did not go unnoticed, but from where he stood within the four walls of that room Philippe wondered how much of it was a façade that he put on for the benefit of everyone else. The others were noticeably uneasy, their bodies filled with tension. And while he wished there was something that he could say that might help to defuse that tension, Philippe was at a loss of what those words might be.
> 
> "One of us must accompany Philippe at all times," D'Artagnan spoke softly, looking between his friends. "Until we learn where this threat has come from and can put an end to it, he cannot be left alone."
> 
> "Someone knows," Andre said, his voice matching the same tone and volume as his captain. "Someone knows that Philippe is not Louis. That is the only explanation that makes any sense."
> 
> Porthos shook his head. "How is that possible? We were the only ones who were present when the switch was made. Us, Aramis and Katherine."
> 
> It was a combination of the frightening truth and Katherine's name that seemed to bring about the silence between those who remained in the room, each one leaning up against some piece of furniture or staring intently at one as they came to comprehend what they could. They now understood that there were no longer as far away from the past dangers as they had once thought themselves to be, and the reality of the situation had hit them firmly. Actions had to be taken immediately to neutralize it before things got out of hand, but how did you combat a threat that was thus far only spoken word? Had there been some kind of physical treason against the King then perhaps they might have had something to work with. But thus far there was nothing, nothing but hearsay.
> 
> Athos shifted slightly, allowing his weight to move from leg to leg so that neither one had the opportunity to seize up on him. "All we can do is keep our eyes on Philippe," he offered gruffly. "They will know that we are the ones looking out for him, so they might try to break us apart or pull us from Philippe's side. No matter what situations may arise…we cannot leave him."
> 
> His dark eyes lifted away from the window to look at D'Artagnan with the same sternness that had once been directed against him upon learning of his son's death. But this time his eyes were not set in anger against his friend. Instead there was an understanding, a small show of mutual love that displayed how both men had come to feel about the young man who sat upon the throne of France. He was not Raoul, both men knew that he would never be. And yet, much as Athos had come to feel when he was around Katherine, the kindness and gentle nature that he saw in Philippe reminded him greatly of the life that he had once wanted for his son, helping to heal the gaping wound that still sat fresh upon his heart.
> 
> "I will do whatever I can to find the source of these threats," Andre spoke up, addressing them all. "You have my word."
> 
> Philippe smiled softly, grateful that he had such loyal and brave companions on whom he could rely in this worrying time. "Just be safe," said the King. "I do not wish for any of you to place your lives in danger for me, no matter the oaths you took."
> 
> There was no light-hearted laughter. There was no smirk of amusement that crossed their lips. There was but a curt nod from Andre before he bowed low to Philippe and turned to leave the room as well, leaving only Porthos, Athos and D'Artagnan near him. No doubt he would be seeing the delegation of men who would first begin patrolling the palace with instructions to be delivered before they began their rounds. Andre was a good man, he had come to learn that quickly after the chaos that had unfolded at the Bastille that night. He had taken an oath to protect his King with his life but had willingly handed him over to the guards of that hellish prison instead of Philippe. Had he too begun to lose faith in his monarch before then? Or had he just been willing enough to go along with what his captain had wanted to question anything further? Granted, there had been no instruction from D'Artagnan as he fought for his life on that cold and dirty floor, held gingerly by his friends as both his son and his niece hovered nearby. Lord, how he wished that memory could be removed from his mind forever.
> 
> More than once had had found himself remembering that moment, feeling the terror grip him once again as if someone had clamped their hand around his heart and began to squeeze with all their might. Everything around him had become ice cold and his hands had begun to shake uncontrollably as he first watched the dagger plunged into D'Artagnan's back and then the slow motion fall of the now broken body. And even now that his father stood before him, clearly very much alive, Philippe couldn't shake the lagging feeling of fear that he had felt that night. To have had the knowledge that your family still wanted you after all those years almost ripped away in a single action…it was terrifying. The only reason he could breathe easy was because his life had been spared, and now the girl who had saved his father's life had now taken his place in a sick bed.
> 
> "We will keep you safe, Philippe," Porthos told him, moving forward to touch the young man's arm. "You need not worry about that."
> 
> But the young King only shook his head. "It is not my safety that I am concerned with right now."
> 
> There were too many other people who were now wrapped up in this game of politics and strategy, too many people who could be hurt simply because they wanted to give France her best chance at survival on a world stage while also sparing an innocent young man from an undeserved fate. Each of them had a reason for becoming this involved, whether it was a matter of personal nature or not. And yet none of them seemed to truly register the risks that they were taking upon themselves as they embarked on this journey together, almost ignoring the warnings that had already reared their ugly heads for all to see. The people of Paris were already whispering about this new attack on the palace. How far would those whispers go? Even if it was only someone attempting to frighten him into making a mistake from which he could not recover, Philippe had his reservations about everything they had to combat. The very thought of losing one of them made his stomach churn.
> 
> D'Artagnan turned to look at his son, his brow knit together in a tight frown as he watched the ever changing expressions and stances of the boy. Over the last week, which was truly all the time that he had had to study the boy, he had come to notice the smaller things that Philippe did out of habit. His eyes would drop toward the floor not only when he was uncomfortable but when he was thinking of something that he didn't necessarily wish to share outright. His eyes grew a little wider when D'Artagnan addressed him directly, as if he were almost afraid of what he might find when he looked up at the older man. But he had also taken careful note of the way that his body seemed to relax when he was around Katherine, how gentle his gaze was and how soft his voice became when he spoke to her. There had been only a few occasions for him to see this happen, but after watch the pair at the ball that night he could no longer deny the truth that hovered right before his eyes. His son had become a man even before D'Artagnan had known him to be a boy. And this man had opened his heart to one of the only other creatures he had dared to love on this earth.
> 
> But would his heart be broken before it was truly whole?
> 
> "Everything will be alright," he murmured lightly, nodding to Philippe as the boy lifted his eyes to meet D'Artagnan's gaze. "It will all be alright in the end."
> 
> And he truly believed that; he had to. Otherwise everything around him was going to look so dismal that he might not have the will to continue pushing on as he was. Things were slowly beginning to wear down on him already, and his latest injury had only made it harder to keep up with the tasks that were required of him. No longer was he the youngest of their little group, the one who could still settle himself into a saddle and ride for days without experiencing too much discomfort in his limbs. Gone were the moments when he could pursue those who did wrong on foot and overtake them in a matter of minutes. He may still be the captain of the musketeers, but even that road would soon come to an end. Whether he liked it or not, he knew that he would not be up to the task for much longer.
> 
> A hurried knock on the door startled them all from their thoughts and brought their attentions to the servant who pushed it aside without waiting for a response. They all tensed to see him appear so suddenly, each one moving a step or two forward until they came to realize that there was no danger from the nervous looking man who stepped inside. Still, Porthos had moved to place himself in front of Philippe and looked upon the servant with a heavy gaze that took note of his every move, from the low bow that he quickly executed to the wide set eyes that looked upward at the King.
> 
> "Your Majesty, please forgive my intrusion," he spoke quickly, clearly fearing the temper that Louis was famous for having. "But you asked for any and all immediate updates on the young woman-"
> 
> He was never given the chance to finish, for Philippe immediately moved around Porthos' larger frame and signalled for the man to stand himself upright. "Yes, what is it? Is something wrong?"
> 
> The poor man shook his head so quickly that his wig had begun to shift slightly until it no longer sat straight. "No sire! One of the musketeers standing guard outside her room just came with the news! She is-"
> 
> But Philippe was already halfway out the door. He heard nothing further from the servant, nor did he register the shouts of his friends as they tried to call him back. Fear had gripped his heart as tightly as the mask that he once wore upon his face at the idea that something might have happened to Katherine in his absence, something that might have been preventable if she hadn't put her own life at risk to save his. Thoughts of all the possible things that could have happened flooded his mind, none of them with the positive outcome that he had been praying for. But if he could ask for one thing, just one thing in the whole world at that moment, he would have asked that it wasn't too late.


	24. Chapter 24

> "I'm so sorry."
> 
> The broken whisper echoed through the empty room. All of the curtains had been drawn tightly over the windows to keep any possible infection from reaching the already fragile creature who lay on the bed, still covered in the thick quilt despite the beads of sweat that had continued to drip down along her pale skin. He had long since abandoned the idea of brushing it away with the cool cloth that had been left for him, having laid it in the bowl of water that now sat on the desk nearest the window. It wouldn't be able to help any further now.
> 
> Aramis had not moved from his place in the chair since Katherine had first been brought upstairs from the ball, though his body was feeling the ache of having remain stationary for so long. Exhaustion was clearly written across his face, mingling with the deep sense of grief that had overwhelmed him over the past two days. Despite all assurances from his friends that his daughter was a stubborn young thing who would not give in easily to her own sickness, despite the long hours he had spent praying by her bedside with her hand held tightly in his own, there had been no real change that might bring the old man hope. Not even the physician, who had returned twice since that night to check on Katherine, had looked at all optimistic when he had left the room some hours before, having shaken his head and dropped his eyes so that he might avoid making any kind of contact with Aramis. It was then, in that single moment, that the old priest had stopped his prayers.
> 
> What more was there to do? If God was not going to answer him and the earthly physician had given up then what was there left for Aramis to do but sit and weep? In his youth he never would have allowed his emotions to have taken such profound control of him, knowing that even a moment of weakness could allow the enemy the chance that they needed to gain the upper hand and slice through his defenses completely. But it had been his own life on the line then; his and the life of the man who occupied the throne of France and looked to his musketeers to keep the peace throughout the land. They had been responsible for ensuring that the life of the King was left unharmed until that day when God himself would call the soul away from the body, appointing another to pick up the reins from where the other had left them waiting, and then Aramis would protect that man as he had his predecessor. There had never been a question of his loyalty to the crown, nor of his undying devotion to the spiritual part of his soul that would always seek comfort in prayer.
> 
> And yet he could no longer bring himself to ask for any kind of divine intervention now. His faith was being tested, much like Abraham had been tested when asked to sacrifice his only son to show his love and devotion to God. But unlike his Biblical counterpart, there had been no choice for Aramis.
> 
> There had been no moment of begging and pleading with the messenger angel to let him take the place of his child, to let him suffer the ailment that had plagued her body. All there was for the old man to do was continue to berate himself for his foolishness, knowing that the only reason Katherine had been injured at all was because he had allowed her to accompany him to the Bastille that night. He had put his fatherly concerns aside because he had been so focused on rescuing Philippe that he did not think more than twice before he gave his consent, handing her a weapon with which to defend herself and then leaving her to stand her own ground against whatever dangers they might have encountered. He had practically handed her over to Death…
> 
> Tears continued to silently stream down his face as he held tightly to her hand, his face pressed down against the top of the bed. His shoulders continued to shake slightly from the unsteady breaths that he drew into his lungs, turning his head only slightly so that his cheek rested against the tips of her fingers and his eyes could once more look up at the motionless face of the young woman that he loved so dearly.
> 
> "I never should have let you go," he whispered, feeling his heart contract violently in his chest as if someone had stabbed him in the same spot over and over again. "It was too dangerous…I knew that and yet I still let you go. When I was supposed to be protecting you, I turned my back and expected for you to remain unharmed, vainly thinking that we wouldn't allow anyone to slip past us and harm Philippe."
> 
> The feeling of guilt hit once again, causing Aramis to close his eyes tightly and turn his face into the top of her hand instead, fingers holding even tighter to her as if he were afraid that she might slip from his grasp completely at the mention of the boy that they had saved. Of all the times to mention Philippe aloud, this was not the time for him to do so! How dare he even think of another human being while his child lay on the doorstep of death! What kind of father was he truly, if his thoughts could not remain in a constant state of worry for Katherine, a poor creature who had never harmed a soul in her life and accepted his way of life only to please him? Any personal thoughts of happiness had always been set aside so that she might find some sort of favour with her father and his friends…
> 
> "You should have been kept safe," he growled through his tears, teeth grit in self-loathing fury. "You never should have come…you…you…" Aramis sighed, giving into the sobs that he had struggled to suppress throughout the day. "You deserve better."
> 
> "There will never be anyone better than you, Papa."
> 
> His head shot up so quickly that he could feel a rather painful twinge in the back of his neck, which he ignored as his eyes grew wide and the sobs began once more. She was still as pale as a ghost in contrast to the rich colours that surrounded her, but she was awake, her bright blue eyes gazing fondly in his direction and the corners of her lips perked upward in the faintest of smiles. Her voice had been rather weak in comparison to her normally strong tone of voice, and yet Aramis couldn't bring himself to care. He was on his feet in an instant, ignoring the angry groans of his joints, and moving to wrap his arms around his daughter who could only give a soft sigh of relief and gingerly lift one hand to lay against his quivering shoulder. He buried his face against her neck and shoulder, warm tears freely flowing from his skin onto her own.
> 
> "God be praised!"
> 
> The pressure in Katherine's hand increased slightly. "I hope those tears were not shed in fear for me."
> 
> A shot of laughter pushed through his sobs and the man lifted his body only slightly so that he could brush away the stray locks of hair that had clung to her sweaty brow. Just seeing Katherine smile up at him again, no matter how tired and ill her body still was, unleashed a joy that Aramis had never thought to experience in his life. Suddenly everything in the world had been set right again, her small laugh at the kiss he placed on her forehead becoming music so satisfying to the heart and soul that he thought nothing else could ever compare to its sound. While she was not yet whole again, she had been allowed back into his life. He was not to be punished for his actions after all.
> 
> "I have been so frightened," he admitted, letting his hand caress her pale cheek as he continued to gaze down at her with all of the love and affection that he could possibly possess for his daughter. "I thought that I was going to lose you forever."
> 
> "Oh, Papa," Katherine murmured, blinking slowly to clear the slight blur in her vision that had come with the tears that pricked her eyes. "I could never leave you."
> 
> He would not point out to her that she had indeed almost done so, not after he had just gotten her back. The relief that had washed over him far outweighed the worry that he could still feel coursing through his system, allowing himself to look past the fragile creature he held in his arms to instead appreciate the fact that she was able to look upon him with the same adoration in her eyes that he had seen many times throughout the years. And as he lifted one hand to gently press against her forehead, Aramis breathed a sigh and allowed his shoulders to fall forward a little. Her fever had broken completely. The danger had passed.
> 
> "I am sorry that I frightened you."
> 
> Blinking down at her, Aramis found that he was slightly taken aback by her words, watching as regret began to form in her eyes. There were tears there as well, ones that had not yet spilled down onto her skin, but tears nonetheless.
> 
> The old man shook his head. "It matters not. As long as you are alright, nothing else in the world could possibly matter."
> 
> "You should not say that," she said quickly, drawing a shallow breath that rattled a little in her chest. " _He_  matters. If there had been any danger for him then you should have left me to keep him safe."
> 
> "The musketeer in me would agree," Aramis nodded firmly. Reaching out for one of her hands, he gently wrapped his fingers around it and brought it back to hold tightly against his chest. "But as a father, I could not do it."
> 
> She wanted to argue; tell him that he would have been dishonouring his oath as a musketeer if he failed to protect his King from any impending dangers that lay in wait for him. He could see it so clearly in her face that Aramis almost thought to laugh aloud at her stubborn will, for it was surely a sign that she truly was getting better as each moment passed. But she wouldn't understand where he was coming from when he refused like that, brushing aside his sworn duty as if the words meant little. And how could she? Yes, he had sworn an oath once that said he would protect his King and country with his very life, uttering words with many other young men who had pledged to do the very same thing. But when a knock had sounded on the door of the monastery that night and Aramis had pulled the heavy wooden frame aside, he had taken upon himself another kind of oath. He had become responsible for another human being who had had no one else in the world to care for her, no one to keep her safe from the world that she had been so unkindly thrust into.
> 
> There had been no piece of paper to sign, no grand ceremony in which he made his promise before a room full of people. There was no wealth and no title awaiting him at the end of the journey. There was just Katherine, someone who loved him unconditionally and always made his life just that little bit easier to bear. There had been some trials during her youth, of course. No child really wanted to live behind the walls of a monastery when there was a whole world on the other side that beckoned to them each and every day. Nor did she want to spend her time in silent prayer while the others of his religion knelt on the hard floor and entreated to God on behalf of their King and his people. She had wanted to be outside, roaming freely about the grounds and exploring the gardens so that she could better understand the beauty of nature by seeing it with her own eyes. And those were the things she got when she was in the care of his friends for a few hours at a time.
> 
> Yet the more he thought about it, the more Aramis came to realize how truly wrong he had been. His job did come with a title; Papa. And the wealth that came to him was not of monetary value, but in the love and respect that Katherine had shown him over her last twenty years of life.
> 
> Perhaps to some it wouldn't mean anything, but to Aramis it was more precious than all of the gold and riches in the world.
> 
> Katherine smiled softly at him and lifted one of her shaking hands until it came into gentle contact with his cheek, brushing her thumb against his skin. "I love you too, Papa."
> 
> Together they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that no further words needed to be said. Aramis moved only to pull her hand up to his lips so that he might kiss the back of it before he placed it over his heart once more, noting how her skin seemed to be warmer than it had previously been. Through where he pressed it against the fabric of his tunic, Katherine could feel the steady beat of his heart against her flesh until it almost felt as if her own had taken up a syncopated rhythm with his, yet another sign that she was on the mend.
> 
> The silence was gone, however, when the commotion began outside of her room and the voices told her that people were approaching from somewhere down the hall. Everything was muffled, and so she heard none of the words that were spoken at all until the sound of the doors being pushed aside rang through the room, footsteps hurrying inside. But as her father sat on the edge of the bed and Katherine was still too weak to move freely, her sight was blocked.
> 
> "Aramis, I just heard-"
> 
> Katherine's heart leapt in her chest as his voice carried all the way to her, watching as her father slowly turned himself around to look at the newcomer and shift his body just enough for her eyes to tell her what her ears already knew. In that moment their eyes made contact and the entire world seemed to fade away until they were the only two people left.
> 
> "Philippe."
> 
> It was the soft utterance of his name that broke their fantasy, bringing the boy forward and to the other side of the bed with such haste that he came to a stop rather roughly at her side. He stared down at her with wide eyes, chest heaving slightly with each intake of air as he struggled to comprehend the fact that what he saw was the truth. And as she tried to reach out to him with her free hand he dropped to his knees beside the bed, his body now eye level with her own. A finger gently traced along his temple, down around his eye and past his cheek until it reaches his jaw line. He in turn leaned forward into her touch and gently held her hand in both of his, all the while staring at her in disbelief.
> 
> For a moment there was absolutely nothing except for the touch of the King who knelt at her side. The beat of her heart picked up once again when he reached out to stroke her hair, brushing it lightly away from her face and back onto the pillow instead. His own eyes reflected the combination of fear and relief that she could still see deep within them, stemming right from the bottom of his soul as he seemed to struggle with whether to laugh or cry at seeing her alive and well.
> 
> "I was so worried," he murmured as he stroked her cheek.
> 
> At this, the girl gave another weak laugh. "The King of France, worried about a little thing like me? What would your people say to hear you talk of such a common girl in that way?"
> 
> Philippe parted his lips as if to speak again when more sounds filtered in through the doorway and removed both his and Katherine's attention from their shared moment together. Aramis gently lay his daughter's hand back on the bed and rose from his place beside her, moving his body so that she could fully see who it was that had come through the door so unceremoniously, clearly displeased with Philippe for having run off as he had. But the tension in her body melted away completely when she heard their voices, watching as each of them in turn slowly came to realize what it was that had brought Philippe upstairs in such haste. She didn't know who it was that had gone down and told them the news, for her own thoughts had been rather preoccupied with her father and Philippe up until this point, but she supposed that it didn't really matter who it was that had gone seek them out or how it was that they had learned the truth. All that mattered was that they were all there now.
> 
> And they were clearly glad to see her.
> 
> It was Porthos who was first to break the spell that had surrounded them, moving swiftly around his friends so that he could take up the place only recently vacated by Aramis and lean forward to brush a kiss against her forehead. The familiar scratch of his course facial hair immediately made Katherine close her eyes tight, but the smile of delight remained on her lips even as he pulled away and looked down at her with a look of relief to rival that of her own dear Papa.
> 
> "Do not ever do that again," he grumbed, earning himself a small laugh in reply.
> 
> Of the men who had been present in her life over the years, Porthos had always been the one to maintain the positive energy that she had so desperately needed in order to survive her life within the monastery walls, very seldom ever scolding the girl for the choices she made. She had asked him once why it was that he never seemed to disapprove of the things that she said and did, knowing that the others always had something to say when she had made a mistake of some kind. His answer had been simple. The life she had been given was her own, and as such she needed to learn about that life by making her own choices, without the heavy influences of other people who might direct her down a path of their own choosing. As long as she was prepared to deal with the consequences of her actions and did her best to remain within the laws of the land, he would be there to help her back to her feet when she fell down. Porthos had sworn that he would never abandon her, no matter the outcome of those choices…and here he was, keeping the promise he had once given to a small child.
> 
> "Best be careful, Uncle Porthos," she whispered to him, lifting a hand to gently trace the age lines that showed themselves heavily in his face. "If you continue to worry about me like that, you will be completely grey before you leave this room."
> 
> "And you  _would_  be the cause of it, my girl," replied the old man in his gruff tone.
> 
> Athos materialized at her other side, taking up the space that Philippe had occupied only moments before. With a turn of her head, Katherine could make out the haunted look that had taken over his eyes when he looked down on her, instantly feeling her heart give a flutter of guilt in her chest. Without realizing it, she had almost hurt him all over again. She had seen how badly he had been tortured over the death of Raoul, watched as that agony built itself up until he had gone on to attack one of his friends in an effort to deal with his pain. And while Athos had made great strides in coming to grips with the loss of his child she could only imagine the images that flashed before his eyes at having seen what had become of her in the time that her memory had lost.
> 
> "Uncle Athos-"
> 
> The old man cut her off by leaning his body down and pressing a soft kiss to her temple, pulling back to watch her for only a moment before he resumed his full height and turned to address the others. "I shall go and report the news to the Queen."
> 
> "I will go to the chapel," Aramis nodded. "I have quite a bit of praying to do now."
> 
> "And Philippe needs to be returned to his own chambers," added Porthos, rising to his feet to look at the boy who stood quietly behind Athos. "Andre and I will return him there."
> 
> "I shall stay with Katherine."
> 
> Together the four of them seemed to make enough plans to keep themselves occupied for the next little while, leaving Katherine to look between them anxiously before she turned her gaze back to Philippe. She knew that there was something else going on, something that they were refusing to share with her. Or perhaps this was her punishment, watching them all go and busy themselves with other things to keep their displeasure at bay until she was better able to face their anger. At least one of them was upset with her, it had been clear in his voice when he had opted to remain in the room with her while the others returned to their various tasks. Porthos signalled to Philippe who left without a parting word, followed closely by Athos and Aramis who both appeared to be rather in a hurry.
> 
> She had seen no sign of Andre in the room despite his mention, so she could only assume that he was standing on the other side of the door awaiting the time when he would be needed. But it was strange to hear that he was so close by at a time like this…and why were they escorting Philippe back to his chambers? Confused by the whole affair, Katherine turned her bright blue eyes to the only other person who remained in the room, and suddenly found herself to be rather nervous at being left with only him.
> 
> D'Artagnan did not look pleased at all.
> 
> His hands were held tightly behind his back, shoulders square and chest out; the stance he would have taken when he was addressing his men before a battle was to begin. She'd seen him take up this look many times before, though never before had he turned his eye on her in such a manner. While stern at times, she had never seen him look so furious with her, noting the tightness of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes that instantly made the girl aware of just how much trouble she was truly in. Katherine wasn't scared of him, she didn't think she would ever actually be scared of D'Artagnan. But she couldn't deny the fact that she was uncomfortable to be there at that moment, under such scrutiny that she thought he might perhaps begin some kind of tirade at any minute.
> 
> "Uncle, please-"
> 
> "What were you thinking?" he demanded hotly.
> 
> "I can explain!"
> 
> "I damn well wish you would!"
> 
> The girl gasped, startled by the harsh tone and cold words that he spoke. Despite the many times in her childhood that she had done something displeasing, he had never before addressed her in such a fashion, and it cut deep against her heart to hear those words thrown so violently in her direction.
> 
> "You do not understand," she began.
> 
> But he cut her off once more, taking a few heavy steps in her direction. "You are quite right, I do not understand at all! Of all people, you should know better than most what happens when wounds like that are not treated properly! You have seen people succumb to lesser ailments and still you neglected to care for yourself!"
> 
> His voice barely rose, but the anger was all too clear to her ears. Her body tensed beneath the covers that shielded her body from prying eyes, her heart pounding so loudly that she was almost sure he would be able to hear it above his fury. Her eyes grew wider as the seconds passed, watching him until he stood only a foot or so away from the edge of the bed and continued to glare down at her with fire-filled orbs. And in her fright, her arms automatically moved in a vain effort to push her body upright so that she might put a little distance between them once more. Yet she was not strong enough for any such thing and as soon as she applied pressure into the hands she had planted against the mattress, she cried out in pain and closed her eyes tightly, teeth grit.
> 
> "They needed you," she whispered, words cracking slightly under the strain of her emotions. "More so than they needed me."
> 
> She curled her body up slightly, pulling away from the side of the bed by which he stood. His eyes were still locked on her, she could feel it without necessarily turning her head back to glance upward at him, not that she wanted to do that either. For the very first time in her life, Katherine found herself afraid of the words that he would speak next, almost sure that he would cut her off once again. But when he didn't, she summoned up the courage to continue as quickly as she could, letting the words spill forth from her lips before she could second guess her choice and choke on the truth.
> 
> "You had just found the son you had known nothing about. Your own health was slowly beginning to improve and things were finally starting to look as if they might work out in your favour, for once in your life." Katherine paused for a moment, taking a breath before she dared to continue. "My only concern was in making sure that you were well again so that you had a chance at the life that had been denied to you. And if that meant that my life was to be given in place of yours then I was willing to pay that price!"
> 
> The last of her words rang clear through the room until the pair were left in a silence that would have made even the most regal of persons uncomfortable. It was almost as if time had come to a standstill, leaving them both in frozen positions from which neither seemed willing to move. Shivers coursed up her spine, causing the girl to shake as silent tears began to form in her eyes and make their way slowly down her cheeks. A trembling hand lifted to press tightly to her mouth and muffle any of the sobs that might have escaped, shoulders beginning to shake with the tell-tale signs of her sadness. Aside from the physical pain that she was experiencing because of her illness, there was a much deeper pain that pervaded through her body and squeezed its dark hand around her heart, making it difficult to breathe properly. It was absolutely agonizing to feel herself placed in this position, forced to explain the actions that she had taken so as to give those she loved the most their best chance at life. Of course, she hadn't counted on…well…
> 
> A touch to her shoulder came out of nowhere. Katherine jumped violently and gasped, her head snapping quickly around in fright to see that D'Artagnan had seated himself on the edge of the bed and reached out to close the gap that lay between them. His own eyes widened when he saw the sheer terror that radiated in her eyes when she looked at him, her chest rising and falling in quick succession to further show her jittering nerves to his gaze. Oh God, what had he done?
> 
> "Katherine…"
> 
> That was all it took. The remorseful tone of voice used to speak her name brought the girl back toward him until her fragile form lay across his arms and could be brought up to his chest in a tight embrace. A heavy sigh of relief fell from his parted lips as he pulled her in tight, burying his face against the softness of her hair when he felt the small outline of her hand press itself against his chest. Her silent tears had already begun to leak through the thin material of his shirt but she uttered not another sound as he held her, taking care not to hurt her at all with his stronger grip.
> 
> To think that he had nearly broken the bond of trust that had existed between them for years with his cruelty, allowing his own fears to get the better of him and lash out at her. Of course he was upset with her. It had been foolish of her disregard her health like that no matter the good intentions she had had in doing so. But he had intimidated her with his anger and had felt the cold wave of remorse wash over his body almost immediately after she had pulled away from him with that horrified look in her eyes. She was there now though, he thought quickly to himself with a gentle shake of his head. Katherine was safely in his arms and no longer fearing the wrath that her uncle had shown her.
> 
> At least that was what he hoped.
> 
> Gently he began to stroke her hair, shifting his body just enough so that she was no longer sprawled across the surface of the mattress to meet him but rather held in the strong comfort of his arms as he sat behind her and accepted the weight of her body onto his own. She had tensed when he had begun to move, almost as if she feared that he might remove himself entirely from her presence and leave her to her own thoughts despite his promise to remain with her. Only once he had settled himself again did she relax in his hold and allow her shaking to cease, clinging to his arm as tightly as her body would allow. At the steady rise and fall of her chest, D'Artagnan allowed himself to feel a little more at ease as well, knowing that the dangers had passed.
> 
> "I really am sorry," she whispered through the remnants of her emotions. "I did not mean for things to go as far as they did."
> 
> D'Artagnan sighed. "I know."
> 
> But the girl shook her head, struggling to lift her body and turn just enough so that she might face her uncle once more. "No, you do not know," she insisted quietly. "All I wanted was to make sure that you were well enough to walk on your own for the ceremony. I wanted people to see that you were not to be made an invalid because of your injury and allow you to keep faith with your men. I allowed my pride to get in the way and cloud my judgements."
> 
> To see her looking so pale and delicate made the Captain's stomach churn. Of all the times that he had known his niece to be sick she had never before looked so ill, so weak that she might have been knocked over with a simple wave of a hand. He could tell by looking at her that she would not be able to stand on her own, and his mind immediately returned to the days that followed his own injury. To see that reflected in her, all of that pain and trust that he was forced to place in others during a time when he hadn't been able to care properly for himself, made the old man shudder. It wasn't right. She was young, a woman of but twenty years who should have been enjoying the freedom of life without the physical restrictions of someone far older than herself. At least he had been able to take comfort in the fact that he had lived a strong number of years before the injury had been forced upon his body. Katherine was to have no such comfort.
> 
> D'Artagnan slowly brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth slowly return and cause her to blush a little under his gaze. "Perhaps," he agreed lightly, watching as her eyes dropped in shame. "And yet," he added as he hooked his finger under her chin to life her head once more. "You were not taken from us. I must believe that there is still something on this earth for you to do with the life you have been given, someone who may need your love and guidance."
> 
> Eyes widened and cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of pink as the young woman drank in the meaning of his words, lips parting as if to speak although no sound dared to travel forward. He was old, that D'Artagnan would soon be willing to acknowledge. But he was not yet blind.
> 
> "You have saved him, and you have saved me."
> 
> Closing his eyes, D'Artagnan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his niece's forehead, allowing his lips to linger there as he breathed against her skin. "Now let us save you,  _ma petite._ "
> 
> Her own eyes pressed themselves tightly together as she once more placed her body close and allowed him to wrap his strong arms around her. And for his part, he simply held her, laying a cheek atop of her head as he continued to stroke her hair with nimble fingers. It did not take long at all for weariness to overtake Katherine, who slowly dozed off as her uncle continued to hold her close to him and stare at the doorway for any signs of impending danger. They had only just gotten her back, he thought. And he would be damned if he let anything happen to her now.


	25. Chapter 25

> "So, she has recovered."
> 
> He stood before the open window, muttering to himself as he heard the conversations of passing musketeers float through the night air and up to where he stood within the shadows of the room. There had been whispers of the girl's health all day, murmurings that the King had been rather anxious for news of her condition ever since the night that she had fainted in his arms before the whole court. And now it seemed that after days of waiting, just as it looked that one obstacle would remove itself from the dangerous game that he was playing, the little minx and managed to get better.
> 
> His lip curled back in a sneer of distaste as he drew away from the window and further into the room itself. The heels of his heavy boots thumped against the hard wooden floor, ringing clear through the silence that otherwise pervaded the area. This would provide yet another unwanted hitch in his plans and surely bring about further anger from his employer, who had been rather pleased to know that her illness had been so horrible at one point that the chances of her surviving the ordeal were not favourable. But now she was yet another pawn that he would have to deal with, and not even a pawn. The child was intelligent in her own right, resourceful and well protected by her little group of guardians who had fretted over her since her arrival at the palace. Even the King was taken with her, which meant that the Dowager Queen was likely to be just as pleasant with the girl when they were in each other's company. Yet another strike against him.
> 
> With one hand on his hip and the other on his chin he continued his thoughtful pacing. Time was running short for him to put into action the plan that had developed over the last several days, and he could not risk the idea that someone else might be put in his place to move it forward. He knew that he was expendable to the operation, his employer had made that fact perfectly clear to him during their last encounter in the shadows of the palace grounds. But what was he to do to rid himself of the girl? Her father and uncles alone were already in the way of everything he sought to do. She was just another thorn in his side.
> 
> But then a thought struck him, one that brought his head up and caused it to snap around sharply to look back at the window once more. Perhaps there was a benefit to this. He had seen the way in which she had interacted with the King that day in the garden, and while he had been too far away to hear any of the words exchanged between them, he could have read their body language from a much further distance.  _Idiot_ , he thought to himself. Why hadn't he thought of this before? If the boy had taken a liking to the girl, then she was no longer a pawn. She was far more valuable than that.
> 
> "A queen," he murmured to himself as he thought about the strategic game he had learned to play as a child. "And everyone who plays chess knows that aside from the king, the queen is the most important piece on the board."
> 
> A wicked grin manifested upon his lips, his eyes narrowing to sparkle with a dangerous glint that would have warded off even the most sinister of spirits who haunted the air around him. Everything was falling into place, and now that this newest revelation had come to mind there was no way to stop him from putting his latest plan into action. The old plot would remain where it was, but there would be much more time to set it up than originally thought, and the girl was going to play a key part in seeing that plan happen. He chuckled darkly to himself, running his hands through auburn locks as he leaned heavily on the frame of the window and stared at the night sky. There were no stars that night, for they were all hidden away behind thick clouds that refused to let even the smallest of lights shine through. It was almost as if the world were speaking to him, telling him of the approval it held for his treacherous heart.
> 
> He knew exactly what needed to be done. And no matter how much D'Artagnan and his friends planned to keep their precious boy king safe, the cards were already stacking up against them at an alarming rate. And he couldn't wait to see them all tumble down before the old fools even had a chance to see them coming.


	26. Chapter 26

> "The fresh air will do me good, Papa."
> 
> She could tell that he was still concerned for her health and well-being after the fright she had given him over the last few days, but Katherine still offered her father a small smile in the hopes that it might help to pacify his worry. She had begun to heal at a terribly slow pace, feeling that the smallest of things removed all of the strength and energy that she had stored throughout the day, but she was still determined to get downstairs and sit in the garden for even just a short while. It was so much more open and fresh than the room that she had been cooped up in. The windows only allowed so much air inside at once before someone would rush forward to close them tightly again and leave Katherine to sit in the stale air that had become so familiar with the room.
> 
> But Aramis shook his head as he looked down at his daughter. "You are not yet strong enough to make it down there on your own," he reasoned, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Nor can I take you down there. D'Artagnan wishes to have yet another discussion of what must be done in order to assure Philippe is safe and has asked that I be present."
> 
> Katherine laughed, the sound far richer than it had been the other night. "I thought he might have to pry you away from my side," the girl joked lightly. "You have been a constant presence since I woke…not that I dare complain about that."
> 
> Aramis shook his head as he looked down at his daughter with a smile behind his own eyes. It was true that he had lingered by her bedside after her fever had broken. The concern that he felt as a father would not permit him to leave for extended periods of time; only long enough to pray a few times each day before he returned again and remained with her through the night. She didn't know it, but while he always promised to return to his own room once she had fallen asleep, Aramis did no such thing. Instead the aging priest remained where he believed that he was most needed and contented himself with the chair beside the bed, careful not to wake her or let her believe that he had stayed yet another night by her side. Were she ever to learn of this truth, Katherine would surely have a thing or two to say to him.
> 
> "Is everything alright?"
> 
> Now it was her turn to worry. It was almost as if he were staring into a mirror as he noted the anxiety that lit up in her face, hearing how soft her voice had become as she addressed the issues of which she knew absolutely nothing. D'Artagnan had requested that they not tell her anything just yet so as not to distract her from getting well again, and though Aramis did not fully believe it was the right thing to do he had bowed to the wishes of his friend. Yet it seemed that her focus was already skewed in another direction, one in which Aramis knew he wouldn't be able to distract her for long. She was rather perceptive for one so young and unfamiliar with the world. Not that he should really expect anything less from her, he thought to himself with a touch of pride. He had always imagined that there would be great things attached to Katherine and thus far he had been proven correct.
> 
> "I am not quite sure, dear one," he admitted to her, letting his thumb brush gently along her cheek as she continued to look up at him for some kind of reassuring answer. "All I know is that we must continue to watch over Philippe until we are certain that he is safe."
> 
> The girl sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "It is not fair," she murmured to him. "After everything that he has been forced to endure, does he not deserve some kind of happiness?"
> 
> "That is not for us to decide," he reminded her.
> 
> Of course, he was right. As a devout man who had pledged the remainder of his life to the service of God, Aramis knew better than most people that what happened to them was not within their power to change. Everything had been laid out for them, or so Katherine had been told all her life. All they were able to do was follow the pathway destined to be their own and hope that it would bring them some kind of peace and happiness along the way, no matter how fleeting it might appear. And that was all she truly wanted for him now, especially with his brother locked away and both of his parents now present in his life to guide him whenever possible. What she wouldn't give to know the feeling of a complete family like that…
> 
> Sighing softly to herself, Katherine nodded in response to his words. Arguing with him would not be the wisest thing to do at a time like this, when his anxiety was already at a high level due to her weakened state of being and whatever it was that concerned Philippe. For the time being at least, it was best that she keep a peace with her father that might be discussed sometime in the future, when things had settled themselves and they were no longer afraid of what might lie in store for them down the road. But when that time came, she would be ready to begin the conversation again.
> 
> The opening of the door to her room then distracted Katherine from her thoughts and brought her gaze upward to see who it was that approached them. Athos walked sharply into view and looked straight at Aramis, his gaze unwavering.
> 
> "You will need to be at the meeting," he reminded his friend, taking only a few more steps into the room as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "D'Artagnan will not take kindly to your absence."
> 
> Aramis blinked in surprise. "Are you not going?"
> 
> In response, Athos shook his head. "I have other things to tend to at the moment."
> 
> Confused by the way in which he was answered, Aramis frowned a little at Athos. His demeanour was as rough as it had been when first he was dealing with Raoul's death, remembering just how eager he had been to dedicate himself to the plan of removing Louis from his throne. Now it seemed that he had reverted to that distant persona once more, and Aramis wasn't entirely sure that he liked what he was seeing. Nevertheless he turned back to Katherine and leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her forehead that caused her face to scrunch up a little as his beard tickled her skin. No matter how old she seemed to be, her response was always the same.
> 
> "I will return after we are finished," he said to her, eyes shining with fatherly affection. "Perhaps then we shall go down to the garden."
> 
> Katherine offered him a small smile. "Go on," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do not leave them waiting because of me. I shall be here when you return, Papa."
> 
> With one last lingering touch to her cheek Aramis pulled himself away from his daughter and moved toward the door, where he paused to glance nervously behind him. Katherine opened her mouth as if to shoo him away again, but Athos beat her to it and instead moved a little closer to his friend, muttering something she could not hear. But whatever it was that he said allowed Aramis to relax a little and nod his head before he finally left the room, closing the door behind him. Now it was only herself and Athos who remained, and his presence was making her a little uneasy. Something in the way that he stood, with his back still toward her, made Katherine feel as if she were being shunned away from him. She knew he was troubled by something though; his face always seemed to hold itself with the same firm lines when he was trying to conceal his emotions from others. Once or twice before she remembered him making that same face in regards to herself and Raoul. They had gotten into their fair share of trouble when they had been children.
> 
> "You wanted to go down to the garden?"
> 
> His voice shook her from her thoughts, causing the girl to blink at him. "Yes," she said softly, noting that he still hadn't turned to look at her. "I…well, it does not matter. I will not keep you if you have other things to do."
> 
> "D'Artagnan wants one of us with you at all times right now," he told her almost stiffly. "You gave everyone quite a fright and he does not wish to take any chances with you falling ill again."
> 
> His words brought forth the guilt that she had been feeling in the pit of her stomach ever since her last conversation with D'Artagnan, remembering how upset he had been at the idea of losing her in the same way that he had nearly died. She had been the one to bring him back from the brink of death, but she had known of his ailment right from the start as well. Katherine had instead kept her own wound to herself and neglected to care for it properly even though she knew first-hand how dangerous that could be. He had every right to be upset with her after that, and so did everyone else who had been forced to stomach.
> 
> "I see."
> 
> Oh, what she wouldn't give to have that feeling erase itself entirely from her body. Though she knew that a large amount of her discomfort was coming from her body's slow healing process, Katherine knew better than to assume that everything was attributed to that. Of all the things that she had felt over the last little while, this feeling of guilt and unease was not uncommon for her. Everyone was on edge right now, though whether it was because of her or Philippe or even a combination of the two, she didn't know. All that the young woman did know was that she was not currently in the highest of standings with various members of her family. There was but one of them who was simply happy to note that she was recovering, his tone and his eyes void of all anger when he looked at her each night before retiring to his own room, and that was Porthos. Even her own father seemed to harbour some inner upset still, though it was Athos who did not bother to hide his anger from his young niece.
> 
> She hadn't noticed that he had moved until he was standing right by her side, wrapping a shawl tightly around her shoulders before he pushed aside the blankets that covered the lower half of her body. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around her, one under her knees and one around her back, as he scooped her up against his chest and tightened his hold just enough to ensure that she was secure. Katherine's own arms lifted in her surprise and instantly moved around his neck, holding herself as much as she could while her bright blue eyes looked at her uncle with a questioning gaze. But her tension was felt, and as they neared the door Athos murmured softly to her.
> 
> "Relax. We are simply going down to the garden."
> 
> Still the confusion pulsed through her as she found herself quietly navigating each corridor that he turned down. His eyes were still rather hard set, as they had been when first he had entered the room and addressed her father, but something in his tone of voice betrayed to Katherine an underlying emotion that did not match the exterior that he showed. There was something more than he was willing to allow through, something he was trying to keep guarded from her and away from the prying eyes of others who might also seek to analyse his behaviour. But what on earth could it be?
> 
> As they approached the bright rays of sunshine that peeked in through the glass doors that separated the palace from the gardens, Katherine squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head into her uncle's chest. It was much brighter than she remembered it being, but she supposed that after spending the last few days in an unconscious state and hidden away in a room with the curtains drawn, her eyes would not be used to the natural light of the outdoors anymore. It was a little painful at first as she struggled to cope with the amount of light that her body had started to absorb, but by the time Athos had set her gently down on one of the stone benches she was able to open them just enough to start making out the different bushes and flowers around her. And one of the first things that Katherine came to notice was how her uncle quickly seemed to retreat to a nearby tree and once again turn his back as if he were preparing to guard her against a future attack.
> 
> "Will you not even speak to me?" she asked him, blinking repeatedly to help her vision make the adjustment faster. "Are you still that angry?"
> 
> "I am not angry," he said a little too quickly.
> 
> "I believe you are."
> 
> "Katherine-"
> 
> But she ignored the hint of warning that she heard in his tone and pressed on. "I know that you are angry, Uncle. I knew the moment I saw you, when you came to my side to see with your own eyes and then hurried away to busy yourself with something else. You are either angry or completely unconcerned, which I find to be highly unlikely, so tell me the truth. How angry are you?"
> 
> His hands had curled into fists during her speech, eyes still refusing to turn and make contact with her. He was struggling to retain control though, she could tell from the quiver that had materialized in his closed hands and the way in which he hunched his shoulders forward. But all at once it stopped and with a single sigh everything seemed to fall away. There were no more shakes, no fists to inform her of the rage that had been circulating through his body as she pressed for the answers he was unwilling to give. That sigh told of everything though, of all the things that he had been keeping deep within his soul over the past several weeks. Too much had happened for him to be unaffected.
> 
> "Yes, I was upset," he told her slowly. "But not for the reasons you may believe."
> 
> Katherine waited only a moment before she responded in her softer tone. "Then why will you not look at me?"
> 
> The old man seemed to consider her question for a moment, then slowly he began to turn himself around so that his dark eyes finally came to rest on her smaller form. "You saw what Raoul's death did to me," he murmured. "It nearly destroyed me. I did not want to think that you were willing to put Aramis through the same anguish that I felt when I lost him forever."
> 
> Katherine inhaled sharply, feeling as though his words had struck her sharply across the face. He was right, she had seen just how badly the loss of Raoul had shaken her uncle, remembering how tightly he had clung to her presence for the first little while when she had gone to see him upon hearing the news herself. He had been distant, broken to a point that Katherine feared he might never be whole again…had she nearly done that to her own father? There was no way of knowing how Aramis might have reacted, though she knew that he couldn't have blamed others the way that Athos had blamed Louis; the circumstances had been completely different. And yet there were others who would also have been affected, others who might perhaps have felt that wound as deeply as Aramis would have. How could she not see that the past was haunting her uncle as he stood before her, reminded once again of the young life that he could have lost because it was believed that they had been doing "the right thing." Raoul had obeyed his orders to return to the battlefront against the Dutch, and so too had Katherine been willing to put her own physical needs aside to ensure the survival of another.
> 
> She had been so blind…
> 
> "Uncle, I…" she stopped, turning her horrified eyes away from him. "I do not know what to say…but I…"
> 
> No, there were no words to excuse her actions. While she would not have regretted giving up her life to save D'Artagnan, she would have forever mourned the pain that she would have inflicted upon the others. Even if it would not have been intentional, even if she had believed herself to be doing the honourable thing in saving an innocent man, none of it would have mattered. She would have spent all eternity, whether up above or down below, weeping for the hearts that she had broken.
> 
> Lifting her eyes, Katherine was almost startled by the intensity of the gaze that she found looking at her as Athos knelt his stiffening frame before her. Seeming to ignore the cold ground beneath his body and the trouble he was likely to have in getting back to his feet, the musketeer reached out and gingerly took both of Katherine's small hands in his own. They were far rougher from years of physical use, the skin cracked in places from the dryness, but they were hands that spoke volumes of his character. And though they were as tough as his soul was, they were nothing but gentle when they held onto Katherine.
> 
> "Swear to me," he demanded slowly. "Swear to me that you will never put your father through that pain, Katherine. There is but one thing on this earth that he loves more than God and that is you. If you were to be taken away from him I do not know that he would be able to survive the ordeal."
> 
> The words he spoke seemed to command the answer that he desired, but she could see the pleading that was in his eyes, begging for her to agree. He would not say it, she knew that he wouldn't, but while Athos was begging in place of his friend Katherine knew that he was also begging for himself as well. It was true that her father loved her with all of the power of his being, but the same could be said for the three friends who had always been ready to aid him at a moment's notice. If she broke one heart, she would be breaking them all.
> 
> Gently sliding one of her hands out of his grasp, Katherine lifted it and pushed away a piece of stray hair from his eye. "I promise," she whispered with a small nod. "I'm sorry."
> 
> Satisfied with her answer, Athos pressed the back of her hand to his lips and closed his eyes tightly, as If he were trying to rid his mind of the dark visions that had since clouded his thoughts. Very slowly did he pick himself up, shifting the weight of his body until he came to rest on the bench beside his niece, who could only smile over at him with the same sadness that she had earlier felt.
> 
> "You should not continue to abuse your body so," she chastised lightly. "You are no longer a young man of twenty."
> 
> Athos couldn't help but chuckle a little, despite the groan that sounded as he rubbed his aching knees. "Trust me, my dear, I am well aware of that fact," he said, glancing toward her. "But until we are sure that the King is safely seated on his throne there will be more work to do."
> 
> At this, Katherine frowned a little. "What dangers are you not telling me of?"
> 
> "Nothing that requires you to be concerned," he said quickly, straightening his back a little bit with a more authoritative air. "The only thing you need to be focusing on is getting yourself well again. The sooner you can walk up and down those stairs again, the easier it will be on my back. You are not so young anymore yourself."
> 
> She knew that he was only teasing, and so Katherine allowed herself to laugh at his joke before she settled herself into the bench and leaned her head against her uncle's strong shoulder. Though she was still bothered by the fact that none of them were being honest with her, she knew that she was not in a position to yet argue with them. Her body still required time to heal itself, she would be no good to them in a fight. But as soon as she was well enough, Katherine planned on regaining the stamina that she had lost and picking up her sword once again. All of those years that she had spent training would not go to waste, she was determined to see herself back on her feet over the next few days, no matter how much pain she had to suffer through in order to stand.
> 
> The two sat together in silence for almost a half hour before Athos turned his head to address his niece and smiled down at what he saw. Somewhere in that time, Katherine had fallen asleep with her body pressed firmly against his side, a peaceful look overtaking her features that was far less concerning than the one he had seen before her fever had broken. Perhaps it was the fresh air, he thought to himself. It took a little maneuvering, but he managed to gather the girl back in his arms without waking her and slowly retrace his steps through the garden, back down all of the corridors and into her room where he laid her gently on the bed. She hadn't stirred at all, not even when he pulled the blankets back up around her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her temple. In that moment he reminded her so much of the child she had once been that Athos felt his heart give a squeeze at the memory of watching two children run about the monastery grounds together, laughing and shouting at one another to see who was the faster of the two. And while those memories remained a part of the distant past, the old man could still recall every detail about the days spent watching them both grow.
> 
> Only one child remained now, and she was no longer the child he had carried on his shoulder so that she might see over the heads of everyone else in the square. He could still carry her if needed, he had proven that twice over today. It might not have quite liked it, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling that familiar sense of protectiveness that resonated from the past either. She was not his, she never had been and never would be. But in that moment, Athos knew that his own son was somewhere close by, watching over the two of them with his own smile of approval. Perhaps she could not replace Raoul, but she could certainly help to heal the hole that had been placed in his heart.
> 
> She had already started.


	27. Chapter 27

> "You look much better today."
> 
> Katherine smiled brightly as she took another slow step forward, feeling his strong arm shift with her body and his fingers continue to hold her hand with the same steady grasp he had used for the last ten minutes. Though he had insisted on carrying her down the stairs from her room and into the gardens himself so as not to tire her body, she secretly suspected that there were other motives behind Porthos' request, for with all of the time that he spent watching over Philippe he had rarely had an opportunity to check in with her and see how her health was progressing. In the hour since he had left the young King under D'Artagnan's careful watch he had made his way up to her room and found her to be in the company of her father, who had been more than happy to hear how his daughter wanted to go and walk around in the gardens. But there was a weariness in his face that Katherine would not ignore, and so she had asked that Porthos accompany her while her father attempted to rest himself before dinner. Neither of them could deny what they saw in Aramis, but he was still rather stubborn in his old age and had refused to acknowledge that anything was wrong. Instead he had simply nodded in agreement to his daughter's words, kissed her forehead and left the room.
> 
> She had wished to try walking down the corridors and into the garden herself, wondering if perhaps she was strong enough to make such a journey and then still enjoy her time among the flowers and sunshine. Still afraid of her fragile state, Porthos had quietly argued that perhaps she was not yet ready to demand such a thing of her body and gathered her in his arms to walk them both downstairs. She hadn't really fought him on the matter, insisting only once that she was feeling up to the task before he had given a firm shake of his head and scooped her up from the chair she had been sitting in. Her health had progressed well enough that she had been out of her bed and dressed in her own clothes that day, simple cotton dresses of rich colours that had been quietly put into her room at Queen Anne's orders so that she might not be forced back into the rough wool of her skirt to soon. The one she wore that day was of a blue so bright that it would almost rival the brilliant shade of her eyes.
> 
> "I feel much better, Uncle," she assured him gently as she took another small step forward. "Must you worry so much?"
> 
> "You had us all rather worried, my dear," he reasoned, dark eyes watching her body for any sign that it might have weakened on her since they began their walk. "We nearly lost you to your sickness. It is only natural that we continue to worry until you are perfectly whole again."
> 
> While she knew his words to be correct, Katherine didn't much feel like entering that conversation with him. Of her uncles, only Porthos had yet to chastise her in any way for her actions and the consequences they had come to bear, for which she was incredibly grateful. All he had truly done was express his own joy at knowing she was alive, wrapping his strong arms around her body in order to keep her upright. No harm would come to her while he was around, not by her own hand or that of anyone else. All he continued to do was hold out his left arm so that she might have a firm grip on him as they moved and curled the right around her waist for added support in case her knees should begin to buckle.
> 
> "Is everything alright?" he asked her, lifting his head to glance at the face of his niece with questioning eyes. "You have been rather quiet, Kate."
> 
> "Is that so unusual, Uncle?"
> 
> "For you? Yes."
> 
> Laughter fluttered past her lips as she nodded toward the bench nearby. "Might we rest for a moment?"
> 
> He need not be asked twice. As soon as he saw the bench Porthos began to steer the two of them toward it and gingerly shifted the control that he had over Katherine's body until she was comfortably seated on the surface. Only when he saw that she had relaxed from the effort of lowering her body did he join her, perched precariously on the edge so that he might leap up at a moment's notice. This did not escape the notice of his niece though, for Katherine was rather unaccustomed to seeing Porthos so stiff and alert.
> 
> "Perhaps I should be asking you if everything is alright," she commented lightly, finding that his eyes flickered to her with a look that betrayed him to be caught off guard. "What has you so on edge, Uncle?"
> 
> Porthos shook his head, quickly masking all of the surprise in his face. "It is nothing, Katherine, nothing to be concerned with."
> 
> She closed her eyes, sighing softly to herself. "Is this my punishment then?" she asked him quietly as she opened her eyes again to stare into the distance ahead of her. "Am I not to be told what dangers Philippe might be in? I have heard the servants whispering about the palace, I know there is  _something_  that has all of you keeping a much closer eye on him than before."
> 
> Well, if nothing else he could not deny that she was persistent. He had been warned by the others that Katherine had begun to question what was going on around her, especially since she had seen the way that Philippe was hurried away from her room with at least two men to guard him. None of them had yet offered up any sort of explanation that might otherwise pacify her curiosity with the situation because D'Artagnan had ordered that she not be told anything. And while Porthos knew in his heart that she deserved to know the truth, even he could not deny that to tell her of what was happening beyond the walls of the palace might prompt the young woman to place herself in harm's way before she was capable of dealing with it on her own.
> 
> "You need to understand," he began, turning himself so that he could address her head on. "That everyone is only trying to keep you safe. They do not fully understand what is going on right now, and so to tell you would not make any sense."
> 
> "How many times must we go over this?" she asked hotly, turning her head to look at Porthos with evident anger in her eyes. "I am no longer a child, and I  _not_  appreciate being treated as such."
> 
> Porthos scratched his head, inhaling slowly. He knew that continuing down this path would get her worked up, thus expending far more energy than she needed to. But he was at a loss of how to distract her from the storm he could feel approaching, knowing that once Katherine had firmly set her mind to something it was rather difficult to change it. He had more than his fair share of experience in dealing with Katherine's moods, and he knew how turbulent they could sometimes be when she felt as if she were being manipulated.
> 
> He didn't know what else to say. "I need for you to trust me," he said slowly, reaching out to take her smaller hand in his own. "I know it does not make sense right now-"
> 
> "Then why not just tell me and save us both the time?" she asked, cutting him off entirely. "Whatever the truth is, Uncle, I can handle it."
> 
> Nothing like being between a rock and a hard place, he thought bitterly to himself. What was he supposed to do now, tell her what he knew and hope that his friends would forgive him for making her worry? Or did he obey orders and continue to say nothing, knowing that Katherine may still attempt to do something without full knowledge of the situation? These were the moments that Porthos did his best to avoid, letting Aramis and D'Artagnan take the more paternal roles in Katherine's life so that he could enjoy being the fun-loving Uncle who was far more open to the possibilities of life than her other guardians were. He hated having these serious moments with her…they were so unlike him…
> 
> The two sat in silence for a moment, inhaling the sweet scent of the gardens into their lungs as the sky began to show signs of the approaching sunset. And as the tension mounted between them Porthos found himself longing for the simpler days that lay far behind them, back when they had all been in semi-retirement and sharing in the joys of raising the young girl who had been abandoned on the monastery steps. Athos had had Raoul, D'Artagnan had his work and Porthos…well, he had had not a care in the world; only time to love as many women as he could and spoil a tiny child when her father's back was turned. Yes, those days have been far simpler for them all.
> 
> "I am glad to see some of the colour has returned to your cheeks."
> 
> Porthos parted his lips to speak, but found that the voice that spoke did not belong to him at all. His head turned sharply to see who it was that approached them without his knowledge before he allowed himself to relax, noting that it was only Philippe who happened upon them. A quick glance further down the path assured him that there were others present and that the young King had not wandered away unattended, though he wasn't entirely certain of what to think when he saw D'Artagnan standing with the Queen instead of another musketeer. The questions began to form in his mind, but they were questions that he would bite back until later on. Now was not the correct time to raise his eyebrow at the coupling he saw.
> 
> But he took immediate note of how Katherine's face seemed to light up at seeing Philippe before her, how her body instant leaned toward him and her lips drew back into a radiant smile. The bright blue of her eyes seemed almost to sparkle in the fading light of dusk as she absorbed his form into memory, sitting a little straighter in her seat than she had before. How had he missed this? The evidence of his age once more sat before his eyes, but this time Porthos didn't seem to mind the reminder that he had dreaded so many times in the past. If anything, it made him just a little proud. And Philippe…it was plainly written in the boy's face as well.
> 
> "Good evening, your Majesty," greeted the musketeer as he rose to his feet and bowed low at the waist.
> 
> Philippe's head nodded to him. "I am sorry to interrupt, but would you mind if I spoke with Katherine for a moment?"
> 
> He turned back to look at Katherine only once to see that her expression had not changed before he turned back to Philippe and bowed once more, making his way toward D'Artagnan and Queen Anne so as to give the younger pair some privacy. The nature of their conversation was sure to be personal, and while he was curious to know just what lay between the King and his young niece, Porthos would not dare to invade their lives like that. He would much rather enjoy the view from the sidelines, especially if it meant that there were stunned faces from his friends to be seen later on. And for now, with all of the added security measures that had been put in place, he was content to give them their space.
> 
> As Porthos left them, Philippe slowly made his way toward Katherine until he stood before her, gazing down with the softest expression she had ever before seen on his face. Only her father had ever looked upon her with that kind of tenderness, but never had it been like this. The looks that came from her father had never made her heart flutter so lightly that she felt it might fly right out of her chest. They had never caused her hand to tremble so much that she feared he might see them and think her a fool. And yet all it took was a single glance from Philippe and the smallest hint of a smile for Katherine to feel those effects course through her body and take full control. Any composure she might have had before his arrival almost completely disappeared now.
> 
> "You really do look better," he told her gently.
> 
> "I am beginning to feel a little better," Katherine responded, twisting her fingers together in her lap a little so that Philippe might not see their shaking. "I cannot yet stand on my own, but my strength has returned a little."
> 
> Philippe turned his head slightly, nodding toward the trio in the distance. "Is that why Porthos is with you?"
> 
> Katherine turned her eyes to look at the figures he indicated, only just taking notice of who it was that stood with Porthos. Why hadn't she noticed that the Queen was standing with D'Artagnan? "Yes," she told him quickly in the midst of her distraction. But then she gave her head a small shake when she realized that she was staring and turned her attention back to Philippe. "Yes. Papa is rather insistent that someone be with me at all times."
> 
> The boy king laughed softly. "I understand what you mean."
> 
> Her eyes turned upward at him in that instant, remembering the conversation she had previously been having with Porthos before she had allowed her anger to bring her into a cold silence. A hand shot out to touch part of the bench beside her as a silent motion for Philippe to sit, but the shock of the cold shot up her arm with such force that Katherine was forced to pull it back just as quickly, which earned herself a look of concern from Philippe. He had seated himself on the bench and placed a hand against her upper arm, the other hand hovering only inches above her knee as if he had caught himself in the nick of time. Seeing his worry, Katherine gave him an apologetic smile.
> 
> "Sorry," she murmured.
> 
> But Philippe was not so easily pacified. "Are you alright? Should I ask Porthos to take you back upstairs?"
> 
> She shook her head. "It was nothing. Just the shock of the cold, nothing more."
> 
> Before she realized what she was doing, Katherine had reached out to Philippe and gently laid a hand against his cheek, her eyes scanning his face to try and put him at ease. In that moment the breath seemed to catch in his throat as he registered the gentle touch of his hand upon his face, feeling the warmth that seemed to rush into his face despite the coolness of her skin. The barrier of King and commoner was broken between them. His own hand trembled slightly as he lifted it, gently covering her hand so that he might press it a little more firmly to his face and wrap his fingers around her palm. And when her face betrayed her fear of what she had done, it was his hand that kept her from pulling away from him completely.
> 
> "Please," he begged her softly, bringing her hand down to hold against his heart. "I just got you back. Do not think to leave me so soon."
> 
> The look that he gave her made Katherine's chest squeeze tightly around her heart, making it almost difficult to breathe. "Do you already forget that you are King?" she asked, her voice a whisper that only he could hear. "I am the daughter of a priest who is ignorant in the ways of the court, who speaks out of turn and puts herself in harm's way to protect those she most cares for. You should want a Princess who is refined and able to hold her tongue."
> 
> "Don't you understand?" he insisted, laughing softly. "Katherine, all of those things you list as flaws are only some of the reasons that I feel the way I do. When I thought that we might lose you, I was in agony. After what you had done for me to save my life there was nothing that I was able to do for you except sit and wait, hoping for the best."
> 
> "And when you were returned to us, I took it as a sign. I could not ignore how my heart ached for you any longer…I had to tell you the truth."
> 
> Through his whole speech Katherine had been staring up at Philippe with wide eyes, unable to comprehend that she was in fact hearing these words escape his lips. Without truly saying it she knew what he meant, her heart beating furiously as she struggled to decide how she felt about his confession. On the one hand she was thrilled because she knew that she felt the same way against her better judgement. On the other, she was terrified to know that his status played a huge role of what would happen between them, and considering the fact that she was no one of importance in the social hierarchy of life there could only be disappointment and heartbreak in the near future for them both. After all, would he not be expected to make a political alliance with his marriage that would secure an ally for France in the event of war? His own mother had been brought from Austria to marry a man she had never met and perform the duties that were expected of a wife while on display for the whole world to see. Was that something that she wanted for herself?
> 
> And yet the way that Philippe continued to gaze upon her with his enchanting smile only made her feel as if she could melt in his arms. He had shown her nothing but kindness in the days since she had come to live in the palace as his guest, his affections only growing for a young woman who clearly did not behave as such. She was brash, stubborn, hot-headed…all of the things that a woman should not be. And she had a mind of her own, which only increased the strikes that were already against her. But he loved her. Despite all of her flaws and the numerous other reasons that she should be disdainful toward her, he loved her.
> 
> Katherine was overcome, feeling her hand begin to tremble slightly as he held it firmly against his chest and continued to gaze into her eyes. What words could she give to a man like him? While her own heart yearned to give him the positive answer that would bring them both happiness, a voice in the back of her head quickly put a stop to her plans. Something, she didn't know what, was nagging for her to say nothing to him at all. But she couldn't do that to him; she  _wouldn't_  do that to Philippe.
> 
> "You and I come from two different worlds," she murmured gently to him, softening her gaze so that she might also lessen the blow she was sure to deal him. "Please understand that. I do not expect it to change how you feel, but know that it does have some bearing on us."
> 
> The smile in his face slowly began to melt away as the reality of her words struck him. He slowly pulled himself back, letting her hands fall away from his grasp as the hurt began to rise in his eyes. It felt as if the world had come to a complete stand still, for every moment between them felt extended and more painful than she had ever dreamed it could feel. Katherine parted her lips to speak, hoping to perhaps say something that might stop him from looking down at her with such a broken expression that risked crushing her heart. But he beat her to it.
> 
> "I see. Then I should bid you good night, mademoiselle."
> 
> "Philippe, I-"
> 
> But he was already gone, having bowed shortly to her before he resumed his earlier stance and walked away with both arms stiffly held behind his back. He gave her no further chance to speak and explain what she meant by her words, and calling out to him would only draw unwanted attention from her uncles and the queen. All she could do was press her lips tightly together and turn her body away so that she was no longer looking off after him, fingers bunched tightly around the material of her dress to keep them still. As she blinked she could feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corners of her eyes and start to blur her vision. Her heart squeezed tightly again and she felt the air escape from her lungs so quickly that her head began to spin in shock.
> 
> She tried to inhale slowly and re-center herself, gently laying a hand against the cold stone of the bench so that she might have something to lean onto. But as she reached to touch the bench itself she felt something else slip beneath her hand, a smoother texture that was clearly not the rough stone surface on which she sat. Katherine turned her eyes to look down beside her and gasped softly as she recognized an envelope, her name clearly written on the surface in a hand that was unfamiliar to her eyes. It hadn't been there when Philippe had sat beside her, but not a single soul had approached her since that time. So where had it come from? She turned her head to look around and saw no one else, not even a patrolling musketeer who might have happened by and slipped the letter to her in the midst of her distress.
> 
> Very slowly did she pick it up and turn it over, pulling the single slip of paper from the inside of the envelope to read the message that had been left for her.
> 
> _Katherine,_
> 
> _You must know by now that there is danger around the palace. I beg of you to leave now before things grow worse, for I can no longer guarantee your safety here. Rumours are flying now that might damage your reputation because of your contact with the King, and rebels are plotting to harm you in retaliation for the neglect of his people. Return to the monastery for your own safety, please. It is the only way that you can be sure they will not harm you._
> 
> _Tolbert_
> 
> As she came to the end of the letter she folded it quickly and held it in her lap, her eyes wide from the information that she attempted to process. There was no reason to doubt his word, he had been nothing but kind to her since she had arrived and her discomfort at being in such a place was made clear. He wouldn't warn her unless there was real danger for her to be concerned with, and he had told her exactly what danger lay in wait for her. If there were people who might use her against Philippe then she had done the right thing in breaking his heart like that. Putting distance between them would only remove her from the equation and prevent her from being used against him, something that would destroy her completely if it ever were to happen. No, this was how things had to be. It had to happen this way.
> 
> "Uncle!"
> 
> Porthos came running the instant she called out to him, but she could see that D'Artagnan instantly responded as well and made as if to step toward her before Anne had stopped him with a gentle touch to his arm.
> 
> Philippe didn't even turn to look at her.
> 
> Her chest heaved with shock when Porthos came to a halt beside her, his eyes consumed by concern. "Kate? What's the matter? Are you alright?"
> 
> The brunette shook her head, reaching out to him with the hand that was not clenching the letter tightly into her body. "No…no, I-I need to return to my room."
> 
> She could tell that he wanted to question her, but the combination of her pale complexion and her violent tremors worried him too much to question her right then. Instead he scooped her up into his strong arms once again and held her even tighter than he had before, hurrying away from the small crowd at the other end and back into the palace itself. Even there against the warmth of his body she continued to shake and cling to him with a wide eyed expression of horror. He did not know what it was that had set her off like that, what had caused such a sudden change after she had been so happy and healthy earlier on. But he knew that it had started after Philippe had had a chance to speak to her.
> 
> Well, Porthos would make a note to speak to the young King later on.
> 
> "Hush, dear one," he whispered soothingly to her as he climbed the stairs and turned down the final corridor. "I am here. Nothing shall harm you."
> 
> Katherine said nothing, only closed her eyes tight and hid her face against her Uncle's shoulder. She couldn't tell him, there was no point in doing so for it would only cause them to worry further about the security measures being taken around the palace. There was only one thing that Kate could do now, and that was leave before anything bad happened. There would be a fight on her hands eventually, she knew that. As soon as her father learned that she wanted to return to the monastery he would question her motives, and after being in the gardens with them that night she was sure that Porthos and D'Artagnan would have their questions as well. All she could do was formulate a lie in her head and pray that she would eventually be forgiven for telling it to deceive them.
> 
> And with any luck, they would buy it.


	28. Chapter 28

> "I simply wish to go home, why is that so disagreeable to everyone?"
> 
> Aramis continued to study his daughter as she packed up the small bag that she had brought with her from the monastery at the beginning of their trip, noting how she kept her eyes locked on the items she placed inside the bag and stubbornly refused to raise them to meet his. Porthos had warned him earlier that there had been a rather drastic change in Katherine's demeanor since they had ventured down to the gardens and encountered Philippe the night before, and the time that he had spent with the young King certainly told him that something had happened between the two of them. He had seemed a lot rougher that morning, the smile missing from his face as his eyes seemed a little more hard set on everything around him. He had not been cruel, but curt with people when they addressed him, as if he had no interest in anything that required his attention. And now here was his own daughter, packing to return home with only a passing word to him, as she had made all of the arrangement previous to telling him her intentions.
> 
> "It is disagreeable because no one understands your sudden urgency to leave the palace," Aramis said, crossing his arms against his chest. "You seemed perfectly content to be here last night."
> 
> "Papa, I have been her for far too long," came her quick response as she grabbed her hairbrush and stuffed it inside the bag. "I do not know what is going on and my body is still healing. I told you when we arrived that I was not comfortable at the palace because it was so unfamiliar to me. Now I wish to return home so that I might finish healing without being in anyone's way."
> 
> "You are not in the way!"
> 
> Finally Katherine turned herself around, her eyes falling on her father with such a stern look that Aramis was momentarily startled by the maturity that he saw in his daughter's face. Despite knowing that she was a young woman of twenty he had always seen her as the little girl that he had raised after she had been abandoned. And yet here was a woman who looked at him, a woman who had firmly made up her mind on something that he knew he was powerless to change.
> 
> "One of you is with me almost constantly," she began slowly, allowing her words the time that they needed to sink in. "When you should all be focusing your attentions on keeping the King safe. You will not tell me what is going on, so I can only assume that threats are being made against the King, and if that is true than you are wasting your time in trying to protect me."
> 
> Aramis opened his mouth to speak, but Katherine silenced him with a raised hand. "If I return home than I can heal in a place that I am familiar. There are others there who can help me until I am able to care for myself again and will do so as long as their prayers are not interrupted. I am better off returning home now. I cannot help you here, Papa."
> 
> It was strange to hear that Katherine was wanting to remove herself from the situation entirely, arguing with her father not to stay and partake in whatever adventure she saw on the horizon but to return home and stay completely out of it. Perhaps he should be grateful though, he thought to himself as he continued to watch his daughter pack her things away. Perhaps their last mission had finally given her what she needed to satisfy that dangerous craving that had been in her system, the long building desire to go out into the world and seek some kind of adventure that might justify her reason for being on the earth. She had spoken of it often as a child when her boredom had reached a peak that even Aramis could barely keep together. And while she had never outwardly complained of the life that she had lead at the monastery, he knew that she had always longed for something more, something that felt complete.
> 
> Now it seemed that she was more than content to return to their life together behind the monastery walls, where she was familiar with the faces and the traditions that were held there. Yet Aramis couldn't shake the feeling that his daughter's request to leave was some form of retreat. She'd never been the type of girl to run away from a situation before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything…and he didn't like it at all.
> 
> "What is it you are not telling me?" he questioned in his deep tone.
> 
> Katherine closed her bag and lifted her eyes, staring boldly into his eyes. "I wish to leave, Papa. What more is there to say?"
> 
> He knew that she wasn't being entirely truthful, but Aramis had no proof and could say nothing against her now. All he had to go on were the things that Porthos had mentioned about her encounter with Philippe in the gardens the night before, when it seemed that the two of them had gone from friendly to estranged in a matter of minutes. He hadn't heard the conversation, Porthos had given them enough privacy not to overhear them, but he had seen the changes in her body and the hard look in Philippe's eyes when he had returned to stand with D'Artagnan and Queen Anne. The thought of his friend wandering through the gardens with the queen made Aramis frown. There would certainly be a discussion about that later on as well.
> 
> A soft knock on the door drew both of their attention to the figure who slowly slipped inside, noting how Athos seemed to hold himself in a slightly more relaxed manner than he had before. "Katherine, your carriage is here."
> 
> "Thank you, Uncle."
> 
> The young woman pushed herself to her feet with an unsteady hand, bracing herself against the back of the chair as she came to a shaky standing position with her bag clutched tightly to her stomach. Aramis moved as if to stop her from leaving the room, but Athos was quick to step between the two and silently offer Katherine his arm in support. The smile that she gave him in response was not one of happiness, but of a thankful sort that could only read to Aramis as if his friend had known all along what Katherine was planning to do. But why would Athos keep information like this from him? And why would his own daughter seek the council of someone aside from himself? It was if she didn't trust him with her secret at all, and that was why he had not been informed of her decision.
> 
> His stomach knotted tightly together in a mixture of anger and sadness as he watched the pair take a few steps toward the door. Clearly things between himself and everyone else were not as he had thought them to be. Nevertheless he knew that arguing was now a pointless endeavour, and so he sought to redeem himself, if only slightly, by moving to gently stop the two of them before they had crossed the width of the room. He reached out to gently take the bag that Katherine held against her, momentarily causing her to give him a puzzled look before shock took over as Athos swept her up into his arms. They were both painfully aware of the fact that she was still in a precarious spot of her recovery, and her body still did not take kindly to being overworked just yet.
> 
> "You will send word when you have made it back safely?" Aramis asked her softly, pushing the door aside so that Athos might step ahead of him.
> 
> Katherine nodded her head. "Of course, Papa. It would be cruel of me to worry you further."
> 
> No further words were exchanged as they made their slow progression downstairs to the corridors and stairs that would lead to the side entrance of the palace. This driveway wasn't used as often as the main one, mostly for the secret escapes of previous kings who had pursued their adulterous liaisons outside the palace walls. But in this instance Katherine had thought far enough ahead to ask that they use this entrance to the grounds instead, so as not to attract any unwanted attention from the people within the city who might wonder at the occupant of the carriage. Rumours were often started in such a fashion, and she wished to avoid those as much as possible. After all, it was rumours that were seeing her removal from the palace in the first place.
> 
> It took them only a short time to navigate the halls, passing few people on their way except for the odd musketeer who was walking his rounds for the King's protection. They all bowed their heads respectfully for their two brothers in arms as they passed, eyeing Katherine with a look of curiosity, but wisely remaining silent and allowing the group to go on their way. For her part, Kate attempted to keep her eyes low enough that she would not make contact with anyone. The less they were able to read in her face, the less they could speak about later. And while she knew that these men were loyal to Philippe, she knew that they were sure to have their own suspicions about what had happened since that night at the Bastille, so she would do her best to give them nothing further to discuss. At least nothing more than simply the fact that she had left the palace grounds entirely.
> 
> Aramis moved ahead of them once more to push open the last of the doors they would encounter, allowing Athos to pass through unhindered and approach the side of the carriage that waited for their arrival. The driver sprung down from his place as soon as he saw them and moved to open the door, his eyes a little wide in surprise at seeing the young woman in the arms of a much older man in such a fashion, though he too remained silent. It was only with a curt gesture from Aramis that the man mounted the front of the carriage again and took up the reins, waiting for the gesture that would tell of when they were to depart. Very gently did Athos place Katherine back on her feet again, though his hands lingered around her back and arm to ensure that she was able to stand on her own without too much rocking that might have her fall over.
> 
> "Are you sure you will be alright?" he asked, looking her hard in the face.
> 
> But Katherine nodded to him, offering a reassuring smile. "The other priests know are expecting me. They will see to it that I am able to heal properly."
> 
> He nodded to her, wrapping both of his arms around her in a firm hug that betrayed the inner conflict he was feeling about allowing her to return unguarded. "Be safe," he told her. "And do not do anything foolish along the road."
> 
> "I will try my best," she responded, rolling her eyes a little.
> 
> His arms tightened a little more as he gave one last squeeze and slowly stepped away into a position behind Aramis, who had since placed Katherine's bag on the ground beside him so that he could properly face his daughter. The aging priest said nothing as he looked at her, as if the words that he wished to use were hidden somewhere deep inside but refused to surface when he required them. It didn't take a genius to see that he was struggling, and so the young woman took a small step forward and reached out until her fingertips brushed against the rough stubble that lay on his cheek.
> 
> "Worry not, Papa," offered the girl. "We shall not be parted for long."
> 
> Before she could stop herself, Katherine launched herself into Aramis and quickly found that her body was caught in his embrace as he pulled her tightly to him. Every ounce of strength that she had been storing since she had woken was reserved for that moment, barely able to stand on her own two feet as she felt his arms supporting her despite his age. She had wrapped her own around his chest and held on tightly, burying her face against her father's shoulder while he turned his head to rest his cheek against her hair, the gentle rumble of his chest as he breathed making her feel just a little better about leaving. Then he lifted one of his hands and began to stroke her hair in that comforting gesture that he had adopted in her childhood, allowing them both a moment of togetherness that would afterward be delayed by an undetermined amount of time.
> 
> "Why do I feel as if you are trying to run away from something?" he asked softly as he held her close.
> 
> The brunette chewed on her lower lip. "Perhaps I am," she admitted with an equally gentle voice. "I do not really know anymore. But this is something I feel I need to do. Please understand…"
> 
> "I do."
> 
> A soft sigh of relief fell from Katherine's lips as she pressed her face a little tighter to her father's body, taking a moment to regain her composure before she lifted her head and attempted to give him a smile that felt rather weak on her lips. Aramis released her from his grasp and shifted his arms until he was able to help guide her back to the open door of the carriage, his body moving like a shadow behind her own until she was safely seated inside and her bag was placed on the floor beside her. Just as he was about to step back and close the door though, Katherine tucked her hand into the pocket of her skirt and produced an envelope that she quickly held out to him.
> 
> "After I have gone, can you please deliver this?"
> 
> He couldn't help but hear the urgency in her tone as she held it out to him, leaning heavily against the wooden frame of the carriage as she did so. What was so important about this letter that she had to ask him to deliver it for her instead of simply leaving it for the intended person? But as Aramis reached out to take the letter, he suddenly understood. A look was exchanged between father and daughter as he nodded in agreement and stepped back, closing the door firmly. He paused for only a moment and then knocked firmly on the carriage itself, watching it lurch into motion and begin carrying Katherine away from him. But it was alright, he thought to himself. She would soon be back home where she would be safe and comfortable, and she had promised to send word to him as soon as she had returned. She wouldn't leave him in a state of panic for long.
> 
> The touch to his shoulder that followed had the old man jumping, his head snapping around to see who it was that had approached him until he recognized Athos' face and allowed himself to relax again.
> 
> "You need not worry, Aramis," said his friend, repeating Katherine's earlier words to him. "She feels that she needs to leave, and perhaps it is better this way. At least we will know that she is not getting herself involved in any sort of fight."
> 
> Aramis chuckled despite himself. "I almost wish she were," he said, turning back to watch the carriage disappear from sight as it passed through the gates that lead to the grounds of the palace. "At least then she would still be here."
> 
> There was a moment of silence. "You will deliver her letter?"
> 
> "I cannot keep it to myself."
> 
> The amount of guilt he would feel if he did would be overwhelming. Though he did admit that he was not looking forward to the moment when he would have to tell D'Artagnan that his niece was no longer within the palace walls. Porthos would perhaps understand best of all, but the fear that had been shown during the days that Katherine was unconscious lead Aramis to believe that having her out of sight would only increase the anxiety that was felt by the captain of the musketeers as he tried to keep his son safe from harm simply because she was no longer within his sight. But he was not the only one who had yet to be told of her departure, the letter in his hand was evidence of that. He had no way of knowing how the news would be taken, what actions might therefore unfold as hidden thoughts and feelings were revealed. All he could do now was focus on his duty and hope that he had done the right thing in allowing Kate to leave.
> 
> "Come, we must return before they miss us."
> 
> Athos turned his head to examine the expression worn by his friend, noting just how much of the age was showing in his face. Things had certainly changed since the night of the ceremony, when they had all felt as if their worlds were slowly beginning to crumble around them. And it seemed that in the time Aramis had spent praying beside his daughter's unconscious body he had begun to look far older than he was. But he was right, of course. If they did not return to the meeting that was shortly to be held in Philippe's quarters then their friends would miss them, and as everyone was already on high alert with the threats being made against Philippe they could not take the chance of startling them any further.


	29. Chapter 29

> "She rejected me, Mother. There is little else to discuss on the matter."
> 
> It felt like an all too familiar scene to Anne as she sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching her son pace back and forth across the room with a heavy frown etched into his features. Her dark eyes were filled with concern when she turned her head to look over at D'Artagnan, praying that there was perhaps something that could be said that might soothe his heart over this recent upset. Had she not been the one to council her son into sharing his thoughts and feelings with the girl? With what she had witnessed between the two of them Anne had never dreamed that Katherine would come to rebuff her son's affections for her, and yet the dowager queen could not shake the feeling that there was something more going on behind the curtain than she currently knew. She had witnessed the initial meeting between the two when they had strolled in the garden the night before, having watched with observant eyes as the joy seemed to spread across both faces when they had seated themselves together on the bench and out of earshot from herself, Porthos and D'Artagnan.
> 
> But after a few moments of speaking there had been a change, one that had rather startled the woman as she saw the darkness overtake Philippe's eyes. He had risen quickly from Katherine's side and excused himself faster than she had ever seen before, and the fragility that she had heard when the girl had called out to Porthos was unfamiliar as well. Perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding, she thought to herself. Perhaps one of them had spoken a little hastily and the other had reacted poorly. And while Anne wanted to believe that with all her heart, she could not ignore the terrible proof that paced back and forth across the room with evident anxiety.
> 
> Her dark eyes turned toward D'Artagnan, who stood quietly by the large window of the bedroom and simply observed his son as he had done countless times in the last few days. Fatherhood was something that was entirely new to the man, for he knew that he could not speak to Philippe the way that he had once spoken to Louis or his own men. The situation before him was different from any other that he had faced before when Louis had sat on the throne, despite the high number of lovers who passed in and out of his bedchamber. It was different in that not only were the two people involved very dear to him, but they were young and very clearly bonded by more than lust and a crown. Philippe had known nothing but isolation and loneliness in his lifetime, especially in the last nine years that he had spent hidden away behind the mask. And Katherine…while she had known the love that he and his friends had shown her throughout her twenty years of life, she had known nothing of the affections and powerful draws that could come in that form of love. Wasn't it only right that the two of them have an opportunity at happiness together after all that had happened?
> 
> "Have you tried to speak with her since then?" D'Artagnan asked his son slowly, lifting his bright orbs so that he might briefly share a glance with Anne. "There may perhaps have been a misunderstanding between you."
> 
> "There was no misunderstanding," Philippe said rather harshly, his eyes averted so that he wouldn't have to look at either of them completely. "She made it perfectly clear to me that she does not return my affections for her. I do not wish to discuss the matter any further."
> 
> There was such a finality to his tone that neither Anne nor D'Artagnan dared to argue further with him, for both were strongly reminded of the rage that Louis had exhibited when his orders had not been followed. Though they were sure that they were not in near the danger as they had once been, it seemed rather foolish to try and persuade the boy that his heart had not been broken out of spite, as he seemed inclined to believe. Instead they simply shared another glance and slowly dropped their eyes, each struggling to understand what it was that had brought them into this situation when they had thought that things had been progressing so well between the young couple. Perhaps there would be room later for a conversation with Katherine, D'Artagnan thought to himself. She wouldn't just leave Philippe to nurse his broken heart without a reason, for he knew her not to be a cruel person, and though she was not seasoned in the ways of courting she wouldn't reject him unfairly.
> 
> Still, the question of what happened between the two of them in the garden continued to nag at D'Artagnan's mind.
> 
> Things had been different for them ever since the night at the Bastille, when they had saved Philippe from his prison and D'Artagnan had nearly given his life in the process. That was when the changes in Katherine had certainly begun to shine through. But it was the differences in his son that now had the old musketeer concerned, for in the short time that he had known Philippe he had never seen the boy so downtrodden and hard. Perhaps he had fallen harder for his young niece than he had originally thought, for what else could explain the way in which he took her dismissal?
> 
> His eyes snapped toward the opening door, where Porthos slid his way into the room with a troubled look upon his face. Immediately the warning bells began to sound for D'Artagnan as he took in the look that his friend shared with those who noticed his arrival, for he could tell that there was something else that now required his attention. Porthos was not known for his capacity to worry about things, and so when he entered a room with a sullen expression upon his face, it was almost guaranteed that something was wrong.
> 
> "The talk in the streets has grown worse," he said quietly, coming quickly to stand beside D'Artagnan so that he might confide in his friend without startling the whole room. "The people are now divided in their feelings for the King, but there is still talk of a rising that would displace him. He is being called a 'usurper,' a pretend king."
> 
> D'Artagnan turned his head and looked at Porthos with wide eyes, his heart thumping almost painfully against the inner walls of his chest. Those were dangerous words for anyone to utter in regards to the reigning monarch of France, but in this instance there was more truth to them than the common people were likely to realize. Words such as that could only come from those who knew the truth of what had happened that night in the Bastille, those who had been present at the moment that he had uttered the word "brother" with what he had believed to be his dying breath. Andre had quickly sent the men out of the corridor and into the courtyard, barking that they were sworn to silence for what they might have heard. But the only people who had been present during the actual switch were Porthos, Athos, Aramis, Andre and the two boys themselves. Who else could possibly know what had occurred that night that might use those words against Philippe?
> 
> The very same thoughts seemed to be moving through Porthos as well as he shared a firm gaze with D'Artagnan. Amongst them lay a traitor who was plotting to overthrow everything they had struggled to put right since that night, a traitor who did not yet have a face or a name. And that meant that the dangers were not in the streets as they had first thought, but standing boldly on their doorstep waiting for the opportunity to knock down the door and seize full control of their plan.
> 
> Now the question was, what did they want?
> 
> "Where are Athos and Aramis?" D'Artagnan asked quickly.
> 
> "They should be here soon."
> 
> Anne looked at the two of them with concerned etched deeply into her dark eyes, lips parted as if she wished to speak but found no words that might lend themselves to the conversation. Without being told, she knew that something was terribly wrong.
> 
> It took only two powerful strides for him to cross the room and gently caress her shoulders in his large hands, looking down at her with the same serious gaze that she had seen countless times before. It had been on his face the night that he had donned his black uniform for the first time in many years and left her a single red rose at the end of the lane, before he had hurried toward the Bastille and the untold dangers that awaited him there. And now he wore it again as he stood before her, causing the nerves to jump madly within her body and her hands to quiver in her fear.
> 
> "What are you going to do?" she whispered to him, touching his chest in an effort to still her hands.
> 
> "The only thing I can do," he told her in his deep rumble. "Find those who are responsible for this threat and stop them. I will not see our son in anymore danger."
> 
> In her heart she knew that she could expect nothing less of him, for even if his fatherly instincts did not demand such a thing of him, his position as captain of the musketeers did. D'Artagnan had always held tightly to his honour and his duty above all other things in the world, a list that had since changed in the past few weeks and now altered his sense of reality. Whether she wished to or not, there was nothing Anne could say that would deter him from wearing his uniform on horseback once again and roaming the streets of Paris in search of the threat that now endangered Philippe and the monarchy. Should anything ever happen to him, the country would not be safe. Between Spain and England, there would be a bloody war to see which their enemies would be victorious in their claim for the throne, as each had already spoken out in desire for it before.
> 
> And this time, she was not sure that she would get him back.
> 
> His hands quickly dropped from her shoulders as the door burst open once again, revealing the other three men. While both Athos and Aramis looked to be just as concerned as Porthos had been when he had brought the news, it was Andre who was flushed from the effort of running through the palace halls, his chest heaving slightly.
> 
> "D'Artagnan, we just heard the report," Athos said, closing the door behind him.
> 
> Andre shook his head, inhaling deeply. "There's more."
> 
> All eyes turned to the young lieutenant as he stood himself up straight and addressed the room, ignoring the otherwise frazzled appearance that he had adopted in his haste to find them. "There have been reports of brawls in the streets since the announcement of what sentence the traitors were to receive," he began, glancing at the boy who now stood frozen near the fireplace mantle. "And even now the whispers have grown worse. The brawls began because it is being rumoured that Louis is an illegitimate son and therefore not the heir to the throne."
> 
> "That makes no sense," growled Athos, arms folded tightly over his chest. "Declaring Louis to be a bastard would leave France without an heir all together, and while many people still despise Louis there isn't a soul among them who wants to see the throne taken by the English or the Spanish."
> 
> Aramis nodded his agreement. "The people know Louis to be the only child born of the King."
> 
> "They claim that Louis is not the son of the King, but rather the son of a peasant who was bought and groomed to take the throne because the heir was undesirable."
> 
> "What heir?" Philippe asked slowly. "If Louis was not the heir, then who was?"
> 
> Andre chewed his lip, looking nervously about him until he at last mustered the courage to face his young master. "A woman," he answered. "A woman who was born of the King and a young maid with whom he had an affair. When it was discovered that the maid was pregnant she was quietly removed from the Queen's household and located away from the city until she gave birth to a girl and died shortly afterward."
> 
> "Is that all they have said?"
> 
> He asked the question so quickly that everyone turned their attention to D'Artagnan, noting the gleam of urgency that shone in his eyes. Looks of uncertainty crossed the faces of his friends, concern working their way onto Anne and Philippe's features as they took stared at the normally calm influence in panicked situations. But this time around it seemed that he was the one who needed to be consoled, and nothing short of Andre's affirmative answer was likely to be of comfort to him.
> 
> "That is all that I have heard," he confirmed. "They must be using the rumour to cause unrest among the people. There surely cannot be any such person."
> 
> As they all struggled to piece this new plot together in their minds, Aramis broke away from the circle and stepped up to Philippe, reaching into the folds of his tunic to produce the letter he had earlier been handed. He had promised Katherine that he would deliver it to Philippe as soon as she had gone, and while he still had his misgivings of what it was that urged his daughter to flee from the palace grounds, he would say nothing until the letter had been read. The confusion spread even further across the young King's face as he looked between Aramis and his outstretched hand, waiting until the older man nodded to him before he carefully removed the letter from his grasp. With his eyes firmly locked on the neat writing of his name that decorated the outside, he turned it over and broke the wax seal, turning his back to the others.
> 
> "Aramis," D'Artagnan whispered to him, walking forward until he was able to grip his forearm tightly in his hand. "My friend, you must bring Katherine here. I fear her safety is in danger."
> 
> Aramis blinked at him. "She is no longer here," he whispered in return. "She left this morning to return to the monastery so that her health might improve."
> 
> "She what?!"
> 
> Aramis was not sure if it was fury or concern that propelled those words from D'Artagnan, though he clearly wasn't happy with the fact that Katherine was no longer within reach. The captain pulled himself away in a hurry and instead walked up to Andre, muttering something in his ear before the lieutenant nodded his understanding and bolted out the door once more. All at once the aura in the room had changed into one of great panic, with everyone attempting to ask questions of D'Artagnan all at once to try and better deal with their lack of knowledge. For his part though, Aramis slowly turned away from the chaos and back to Philippe, who still stood apart from the commotion and held Katherine's letter tightly in his hands. Unsure of what the letter contained, he could only provide general comfort and laid a hand atop his shoulder.
> 
> "I do not believe that she intended to hurt you," he began.
> 
> "I know."
> 
> To hear the resignation in his tone took Aramis aback as the young man slowly moved round again so that he might look the priest full in the eye. His gaze had softened considerably, so much so that Aramis wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him or if indeed he saw tears welling up in the bright blue orbs of the King. This was a compassionate, sensitive side of Philippe that he had seen only once before in the time that the two had known one another…but unlike that time before, there was no trace of fear lurking behind his eyes. Instead there was a sadness, a regret…perhaps even a hint of guilt hidden in there as well. Philippe offered no further words but offered out the letter that he held in his hand for Aramis to read before his gaze returned to the empty fireplace. Unsure of what else to do, the old musketeer dropped his head and began to read.
> 
> _Dearest Heart,_
> 
> _I write this to you now, hoping that perhaps in time you will come to forgive the actions I am about to take. I did not get a chance to speak to you after we met in the garden, and I feared that I had hurt you too much for you to understand just what I have come to know is happening around us. There are spies everywhere, which is why I dare not address you as you are, for fear that that might fall into the wrong hands. I am returning to the monastery in the morning so that I can continue to heal and remove the worry that I know Papa and my uncles are feeling about my well-being at this moment._
> 
> _If there is nothing else that you remember from the time I was at the palace, I pray that you remember this. My heart is something that I decided long ago was not for the taking, but instead for the giving when I finally met a kind soul who had shown himself to be worthy of it. And as I leave you in the care of those I love most in the world, know that I leave behind my heart to your keeping._
> 
> _There are few people in this world who have shown the same level of compassion and wisdom that you have shown me over the last few weeks, and I know that a great many people will benefit from having you in their lives for years to come. Our paths were never truly meant to cross as they did, for I am not desirable as anything more than I am. To the crown I shall always be a faithful subject of France, but as a woman I shall never feel for another what I have come to feel for you._
> 
> _All my love,_
> 
> _Katherine_
> 
> As he lowered the paper from his eyes and looked across at the reaction in the face of the King, Aramis had no doubt in his mind that while her words were genuine, there was something more than just her health that propelled Katherine to flee from the palace as she had. And yet he could see the torment that lit behind Philippe's eyes, the evident sadness of something that the older man did not yet understand. But he knew there was something, perhaps a feeling of guilt for some mysterious reason. Why was that?
> 
> Unaware that Katherine and Philippe had met only the night before in the gardens before she had made the decision to leave the palace all together and return to the monastery, Aramis folded the paper neatly again and offered it back to Philippe, who took it without comment. There was no glance exchanged between them because the young man avoided his eye, but Aramis knew enough now to feel that something was amiss; perhaps something more than he might have first thought. In whatever regard, the problem at hand needed to be dealt with before anything else could be addressed, and that unfortunately meant that the issue of Katherine's departure was no longer top priority.
> 
> "When did she go?" Philippe murmured quietly, his question intended only for Aramis.
> 
> "Early this morning," he replied. "Only a few hours before Athos and I came to find you."
> 
> News of the threats that were now being made against Philippe had reached them fairly quickly after the carriage bearing his daughter had disappeared from sight, and the two had immediately accompanied another young man to making sure that the entrances around the palace were secured. Men had been posted all along the perimeter of the grounds, instructed not to let anything in or out without the express consent of D'Artagnan or one of his friends. It had taken very little to convince the musketeers to stand their ground as soon as they learned of the dangers their King now faced, and it seemed that a wall of men had begun to surround the palace entirely to prevent unwelcome visitors who might wish the King harm. If nothing else, they had been rather relieved to see that the musketeers remained loyal to their King despite recent events.
> 
> Thus had Aramis been delayed in keeping his promise of allowing Philippe to see the letter that Katherine had written to him before she had gone.
> 
> Philippe offered no further words of conversation and removed himself from his place before the mantle, moving further into the room to put a distance between them. Assuming it was best to let the young man think through the words of the letter, Aramis gave a small bow and backed away until he was able to rejoin the others, his brow furrowing at the number of people who stood before him. All of a sudden they were one shy of the number that had been present upon his arrival…and that one should never have wandered off alone.
> 
> "Where is D'Artagnan?" he asked, almost demanding an explanation from a rather perplexed looking Andre.
> 
> But the young lieutenant only shook his head. "In all my years of service, I do not know that I have ever seen him so upset by something like this. The captain has faced countless threats against the crown before with a clear mind, but this…" he trailed off, pressing his lips firmly together. "I do not know. I feel that this goes above and beyond simply being a musketeer."
> 
> Andre's meaning was rather clear, and Aramis could only nod in agreement. The game that they were playing was becoming more and more perilous as the moments progressed, which left a rather uncomfortable feeling in the pit of the old priest's stomach. Someone was attempting to play them.
> 
> The question was…why?


	30. Chapter 30

> "What am I going to do?"
> 
> The words were muttered and hurried as he moved through the doors of the palace and into the garden that he had recently become so acquainted with, having left behind several men who had attempted to question their captain before he had brushed them off almost distractedly. They had stopped in their tracks, calling out to him as they tried to figure out what it was that had him so worked up and clearly nervous, but D'Artagnan had heard nothing on his way. He needed time to think, a space in order to clear his head so that he might better assess the situation at hand. And yet he struggled to do so, for the warning bells had gone off in his head and his heart had begun to race, beating madly against the walls of his chest.
> 
> There was something afoot here, something he knew nothing of. The risk to Philippe's life he had anticipated due to the unpopular reputation that Louis had created, they had all been prepared for the hatred that France would show the crown until they were able to set things right again. But this new threat, the rumours that had been whispered in the street…despite the vast knowledge that D'Artagnan had come to know over the years, there was nothing that could have prepared him for this. He had thought that the safety they had come to know would go on forever, never once drawing his friends into the danger that now stood boldly on their doorstep.
> 
> He had tried so hard, so very hard to keep them all out of harm's way.
> 
> "D'Artagnan!"
> 
> He turned sharply around to see the figure that hurried toward him, holding her skirts just above the grass so that she could move faster than was customary for a lady of her station. The heart that already beat so quickly in his chest suddenly leapt when he saw Anne hasten toward him like that, reminded of the few times in their youth that they had found themselves alone together and finally allowed to become lost in each other's embrace. But the look that she wore now was one of concern, almost fear really. There was no joy in her eyes to see him as there had once been, no smile upon her lips that foretold of the kiss that he was about to receive from his beloved Anne. Instead there was only the fear that he had once sworn to keep from her, yet another sign of his horrible failure.
> 
> "D'Artagnan, why do you flee so quickly?" she asked him, lowering her voice as she approached and took one of his hands in her own in a gesture of comfort. "I know that this has worried you, I can see it in your eyes. But what troubles are you keeping from me?"
> 
> It tore him apart to know that she was aware of his deception, though she knew not to what level it truly fell. Over the years he had come to learn many things, not all of which he had wished to become responsible for. But this, right now, went above and beyond all of the things that the man had once dreamed of encountering in his lifetime, for the concept had seemed so farfetched and out of reach that there couldn't possibly be another soul alive who might have such information for their use. It was his fault that things had gotten this far. Had he simply followed orders like he was supposed to then none of this would ever have happened. They would all be safe, living lives that did not include all of the heartache and terror that they had come to know in the last few weeks.
> 
> It was his fault.
> 
> Pulling his hand away from Anne, D'Artagnan looked down at her with the same expression he had worn for years when in her presence. "It is nothing, my lady," he said formally, his body moving in a ridged bow.
> 
> The pain in her eyes spoke volumes where words could not, and as he lifted his head again he couldn't help but long to take her in his arms and hold her close to him. It had become a comfort that he was used to living without, for there were still too many eyes and ears in the palace for him to feel that they were perfectly safe to be together. She understood his actions, after all of the years that they had spent hiding their love from the rest of the world he knew that she understood. But that did not make things any easier for him to handle, not when he knew that she could read him so easily.
> 
> "You have worried the others," she said softly, as if she too were afraid that their conversation might be overheard by one who was not meant to hear it. "In all of the years that I have known you, never has Porthos looked so worried."
> 
> She did not mention Philippe, but D'Artagnan knew that she was also referencing the son that he had barely begun to know, nevermind the other friends that he had left standing in that room when he had suddenly left without warning. He knew all too well that his son was sure to ask after his behaviour though none of the others would be able to explain the truth of it to him. No one could. For the past twenty years he had hoped and prayed that God would spare them of this day, allowing life to go on as they had come to know it. Was this his punishment for having disobeyed all those years ago? Or was there something more that went beyond that?
> 
> The old man realized that he could no longer hold those secrets to his heart, for a little voice in the back of his mind began to hum loudly in warning and it had never steered him wrong before. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, considering his choice of words and what it would soon mean for them all. And when he opened them again, he found that Anne was looking back at him with an almost startled expression now upon her face.
> 
> "Listen, my love," he murmured quietly, leaning in a little so that he might address her quickly. "There is much that I need to share with you, much that I have kept from you for many years now. Can you gather the others together in a place where we shall not be overheard?"
> 
> While he had come to know the passages and doorways of the palace well, he knew that there were likely to be a few that he was not privy too, and so relied on Anne's knowledge of the palace instead. She nodded to him only once before she turned and moved away again, her pace a little quicker, but not enough that it might arouse suspicion from anyone who had been watching their interaction. As she left him, D'Artagnan breathed a soft sigh and allowed his face to fall into his hands. There was so much that he needed to tell, so much that weighed heavily upon his soul…and now he was finally going to let the truth out. But that truth may very well put them in more danger than they had previously been in, and so he needed to be prepared for the worst of it.
> 
> Once before he had found Death to be standing before him, ready to claim his life and forever remove him from this world. He had been spared then. Perhaps this was the reason that he had been spared…perhaps there was still time to set things right before too much blood was shed.
> 
> "Captain!"
> 
> It was the cry of his lieutenant that brought his hands away from his face and caused his spine to straighten a little, eyes growing wide as he saw the urgency with which Andre now approached him. He ran like a man who had a message to deliver, something of great importance that could not wait, and that caused the fear to swell in D'Artagnan's chest as he took a few strides of his own to meet the younger man.
> 
> "What is it? What's happened?"
> 
> Andre paused only a moment, to try and catch his breath. "I went to check the guards at the front gate, make sure that the perimeter was secure," he began, panting from the exertion of having run halfway across the vast grounds of the palace. "I intercepted this."
> 
> He offered out the crumpled piece of paper that he clung to, which the captain stared at with wide eyes and quickly snatched into his own, pulling it open with trembling fingers. It took him only a moment to absorb the contents of the page, his breath hitching as he came to realize just how quickly things had escalated. Someone was watching them, he could no longer doubt that now. And from what he read, it was only too clear that one of their own had betrayed them to this threat, a threat he was slowly beginning to understand.
> 
> "You have read this?"
> 
> "Yes, sir."
> 
> Andre was no fool. By now he was sure to be guessing at the puzzle pieces himself, but he was wise enough not to voice any of his concerns and thoughts to his captain at this moment. He waited until D'Artagnan had read through the letter perhaps twice more before he shared a look, immediately knowing that they would have to react to its contents.
> 
> "You have shown this to no one else?"
> 
> "No, sir."
> 
> "Good," D'Artagnan nodded quickly, his mind whirling madly. "I cannot leave this any longer. Find them, all of them. Now."
> 
> Nodding that he understood the order he had been given, Andre turned on his heel and quickly moved across the garden once more, hurrying to do as directed. There was no time to delay, they both knew that now. And while it was only D'Artagnan who felt the awful pain stab at his heart, it was a pain that would soon be shared. He wished he could spare them all from it, knowing just how much they had already overcome, but he could not bring himself to keep the news away from them. The truth had to be heard, forgiveness needed to be begged…and when it was all over, another life needed to be saved.
> 
> * * *
> 
> "I know what these people are planning."
> 
> They had gathered together in one of the smaller antechambers attached to Anne's rooms, one that was known only to the Queen, her maid and the musketeer who had slipped in and out of that room several times in his youth. Athos and Porthos had situated themselves against the wall on either side of the door, both armed and prepared to deal with whatever intruder was foolish enough to try and enter the room with them in it. Andre stood close by, placing himself by the small bookshelf that stood only a short distance from the fireplace mantle that Aramis leaned heavily on. Anne and Philippe were both seated at the table, but the looks that they gave D'Artagnan forced him to look away and instead address the room as a whole. Everyone was suddenly alert at his news though, eyes sharply turned in his direction as they waited to hear what exactly he had come to learn.
> 
> "It's only been a few hours," Athos stated. "Have they already started moving?"
> 
> "I'm afraid they have," D'Artagnan nodded gravely. "A letter was delivered to the palace gates for us not even an hour ago."
> 
> With a furrowed brow he held up the now worn piece of paper in his hand, pulling it open so that he might read it to them. But he paused, looking at them and inhaling deeply as if he were trying to prepare them all for what the contents would shortly reveal. His gaze swept across the room and came to rest on Aramis for only a moment before he began to read.
> 
> " _We have taken the King's bastard and hold her now at the Chateau Montblanc outside the city. You are to take the imposter to the heart of the city and publically declare him as a usurper at your hands by noon tomorrow or the girl will suffer the consequences of your disobedience."_
> 
> "Wait," Aramis interrupted, holding out a hand so that D'Artagnan would stop his reading for a moment. "This letter makes it sound as though the girl in question is not involved in their plot as anything more than a pawn. The rumours sounded as though she were leading this rebellion herself."
> 
> "There is more," answered D'Artagnan slowly.
> 
> " _Should you disregard this order, we will be forced to expose her as a traitor to her country and thus condemn her to death by order of King Louis XIV. It is recommended that you follow the order as given, for we would hate to detach Katherine's lovely head from her neck."_
> 
> The entire room seemed to have frozen completely until Aramis crumpled against the mantle, losing his grip upon the edge and falling to his knees with a pitiful cry that immediately brought his friends to his side. Standing on either side of him, Porthos and Athos helped him back to his feet and into a nearby chair where he began to tremble violently under their hands. Anne had pressed a hand tightly to her mouth in shock and Philippe had quickly grabbed hold of her other one, but all eyes were on the quivering form of the old priest who could not even pretend to hold it together when his daughter's name was read aloud.
> 
> "How?" Athos demanded, remaining by Aramis as his eyes seemed to demand the answers from D'Artagnan. "How has Katherine been dragged into all of this?"
> 
> D'Artagnan closed his eyes. "Because she is the child of the old King."
> 
> Again, there was a stunned silence that was broken only by the sharp intake of air that brought Aramis back into a more comprehensive state of mind. Though the tears stained his eyes and his age had begun to show through once more, he looked at D'Artagnan with such a sense of loss that the captain could barely stand to be under his gaze. There was such question in his eyes, such a hurt that it took all of his will not to turn away and instead look at the floor or the wall, neither of which could harm him with such looks as the one that Aramis now wore.
> 
> "You knew," he whispered, his tone broken as the words tried to choke themselves in his throat. "You've known all these years…"
> 
> "Yes," answered the captain.
> 
> "D'Artagnan, how could you not-"
> 
> "Because it was the only way I could think of to keep her safe."
> 
> There was tension mounting in the room, he could feel it. And when all eyes were turned in his direction with a combination of confusion, shock and anger, he could really feel it all coming down heavily upon his shoulders. Again his heart began to thump wildly in his chest as he allowed his own concern for Aramis to show in the depths of his eyes, momentarily ignoring the fact that most of the anger was currently radiating off of Athos once more. The last time he had seen his friend that angry had been the day that he arrived at musketeer headquarters, the death of his son hanging over his head. He still hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that Louis had sent Raoul to his death, but having Katherine around had greatly eased the sorrow that he had felt and D'Artagnan feared what might happen to Athos if they were to lose her as well.
> 
> "Perhaps you should explain," came Anne's soft voice. "Tell us what happened…how you know."
> 
> Grateful for her gentle approach to the matter, D'Artagnan's eyes softened a little as he gazed in her direction, looking between the only woman he had ever loved and the son that had come from that love. Poor Philippe had no idea of what to think, that much was evident in how he stared back at his father blankly. A sigh escaped his lips. There was not much more he could do now but tell them the truth that he had kept to himself for twenty years, the truth that he had not even been able to share with Anne.
> 
> "It was a few years after Louis and Philippe were born," he began, careful to address Anne from the start lest he should falter and lose his nerve by seeing Aramis. "The old King had never been attentive to you, but he was beginning to question many of the things that were happening around him, growing even more cautious of the people who offered their advice and watched over his son."
> 
> Anne nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue.
> 
> "You had a maid, a woman that you had come to trust because she had helped to keep you from harm several times. She alone knew the truth about the paternity of the young Prince and she kept our secret safe. Celeste, her name was."
> 
> Dear Celeste, he thought to himself. He remembered a creature of fair skin and blonde hair, with bright blue eyes that shone brightly as she went about her tasks in the palace day after day. She had been one who went from place to place without much of a fuss, rarely drawing any attention to herself because she was so mild of character. Once before she had been trapped in a loveless marriage to a man many times her senior, and when the old man had died not even two weeks after their marriage had been consummated, she vowed never again to enter into a relationship that would see her subjected to the cruelty of a man. D'Artagnan remembered her well, for she rarely spoke in the presence of men, but the two had somehow found themselves to be one each other's company one night and a conversation was struck that neither had been anxious to abandon. In him she found a friend who might be willing to keep her from suffering a lonely life, while he found someone in whom he could confide.
> 
> "At this time, Cardinal Richelieu was staging one last attempt to discredit the King in the eyes of his people, for his health had been declining for quite a while. He arranged for foreign ministers to come and discuss their policies and potential alliances with the King, knowing how their pressuring would result in the consumption of wine that went beyond what the King could tolerate."
> 
> A look was exchanged between Porthos and Athos, both of whom remembered all too well the antics that they had once fought against when the Cardinal held power over the old King. They had spent many days duelling with the guards who wore his red tunics, which inevitably had resulted in their befriending D'Artagnan in the first place.
> 
> "He then sent the King upstairs in good cheer after announcing that all had gone well, having drugged Celeste and placed her in the King's bed for the night. It was his hope that by creating a bastard child and planting lies in Anne's ear, he might be able to cause a feud that would shake the monarchy until it could barely sustain itself."
> 
> Here, D'Artagnan paused and closed his eyes, rubbing at the corners with his thumb and forefinger. "His plan worked," he added bitterly. "But Celeste was not to be used again. She awoke the next morning and found herself in a compromising state of being, and she quickly left the chamber and set about as if nothing ever happened, swearing she wouldn't tell a soul about the altercation. When she learned that she had fallen pregnant, she came to me."
> 
> D'Artagnan pressed his lips tightly together in anger. He could still remember how terrified the young woman had been when she had come to him, tears in her eyes to confess the entire affair to him. He had wanted nothing more than to find Richelieu and tear him to pieces for having abused the poor girl so, but he knew that he held no such power or influence against the man most trusted by the King. So he had gone directly to the King himself and whispered in confidence that he knew of the liaison between himself and one of the maids in the palace, alerting him of the fact that she had fallen pregnant in their single night together. Whether it was out of panic or a lack of caring, D'Artganan did not know, but the King had waved his hand at the issue and demanded that D'Artagnan send the girl away to a foreign country to deal with the pregnancy on her own. He couldn't be bothered with such a trivial thing now, not when there was a threat of war with England on the horizon.
> 
> "I disregarded my orders from the King," he confessed. "I took Celeste to a cottage in the country, where she would be cared for by an old woman until the baby arrived and she decided what she next wanted to do with her life. But when the child came early-"
> 
> The haunted look returned to his eye, his jaw quivering slightly as the ghostly images of the past began to move before his eyes and remind him of the various pains of the past that he long wished to forget. It was only when Anne rose quietly from her chair and touched his shoulder that he seemed to snap out of his daze, covering her small hand with a larger one of his own. The pair locked eyes for a moment, allowing D'Artagnan to take a breath in order to steady his nerves.
> 
> "A message was sent to me, here at the palace," he continued slowly, feeling his insides begin to knot themselves in the pit of his stomach. "I made it just in time to have her make me promise that I would help to find the child a good home before she died in my arms."
> 
> He brushed his thumb along the knuckles of her hand, soothing both himself and Anne with the gentleness of his touch. "But I was still fairly young. I knew nothing about how to raise a child and I knew that my job as a musketeer would not permit me to take on such a responsibility, especially when there were sure to be questions of how she came to be in my possession. So I approached a local monastery late one night, cloaked so that no one could recognize me if they were to see. I'd wrapped the child carefully in a blanket and rang back to watch after I had rung the bell. I waited only long enough to see someone come and carry her inside before I left again."
> 
> Now his gaze returned to Aramis, who continued to sit in the chair with his head in his hands. Moving slowly so as not to startle him, D'Artagnan moved across the room and knelt down before his friend, lightly taking the hands away so that he might better look up into the face of the person who had come to be so central in the happenings of the next twenty years.
> 
> "I never dreamed that you would keep her," he whispered honestly. "I had forgotten that you had retired to that exact place to live your life as a priest. But when I found out that you had chosen to keep the child with you, given her a name, I saw it as an opportunity. I could never recognize my King as being my son, so perhaps this was a second chance from God to help ease that pain."
> 
> Aramis blinked, staring at D'Artagnan on his knees before him as if it were the most bewildering sight that he had seen in a long time. His mind seemed to be considering something, a thought that had touched his mind only briefly and was now weighing heavier than it had before. "Why did you not tell me the truth?"
> 
> At this, D'Artagnan sighed and lowered his head a little. "I have seen and heard many of the same things that you have. We both know that illegitimate children are treated with poor regard, even worse than the children whose parentage is unknown."
> 
> But this answer would do little to satisfy Aramis, and he knew it. "Not telling you the truth would make Katherine yours completely. I saw, right from the beginning, how much light she brought into your life despite your desire to remain a priest, and who was I to deny that? You would never have to look at her and feel the sympathy that I felt for the mother who had been used as a pawn, nor the father who had cared nothing for her existence and tried to send her away. You could just love her for what you had raised her to be, the woman she was always meant to become."
> 
> Aramis seemed to consider this, the muscles in his face relaxing as the weight of D'Artagnan's words slowly sunk into his body. There had never been any malice in his intentions, but simply a desire to let them all have their happiness with the child that they had come to love so dearly. To them she had always been a daughter, a pillar of strength for those moments when life decided to try and bring them down. To Athos he had been a great source of comfort after losing his wife and then his son, someone who could help to heal the wounds that had been so cruelly left open to fester. Even Porthos had found an unexplained joy in the concept of having a child around during her early years, for who else could he teach about his love of life and spoil from time to time? She had kept them together for nearly twenty years, in a time when they had all taken different paths and might have forever wandered away from their friendship.
> 
> And now she was a prisoner.
> 
> "I stole your child away from you for twenty-five years," he murmured, pressing a hand to D'Artagnan's shoulder so that the captain might look up at him once more. "And you brought me a child that was my entire life for twenty of those years. I believe God had a great hand in this, my friend."
> 
> Knowing these to be his words of forgiveness, the captain bowed his head again for a moment to say a word of silent thanks before he pushed himself back to his feet, aided all the way by Aramis' steady hand. As he glanced around him, he could see that neither Porthos nor Athos carried any anger in his direction, though the glint of it could still be seen in their eyes. Of course they were angry though, he reminded himself. Katherine had been put in harm's way, and none of them seemed entirely sure of how they were supposed to save her without bringing harm to Philippe.
> 
> From behind them, Philippe cleared his throat and caught their attention. In his hands he held the letter that had fallen from his father's grasp during the telling of his story, and he looked at it again with a tight frown on his face.
> 
> "The letter says that they would execute her in the name of the King," he said, holding it back out to them. "But if they want me in the city to be declared an imposter, they cannot mean that they would execute her in  _my_  name."
> 
> Athos shook his head, grinding his teeth together. "Someone else knows about Louis," he snarled. "Someone has betrayed us."
> 
> "And if that someone is a musketeer, there is a chance that we can find them out," Andre interjected, coming forward to stand behind Philippe. "Louis would never write a letter like that in his own hand, he sees himself as being above such things-"
> 
> "Which means the one responsible for taking Katherine is probably with him now," Porthos finished. "And we shall find out who."
> 
> Athos nodded in response and moved toward the door with Porthos and Andre in tow. It would not take the three of them long to assemble the musketeers and discover who was missing among their number, and by that time D'Artagnan hoped to have some kind of plan in place. He was not going to let Katherine suffer for these mistakes. He would her back in one piece or he would die in the attempt to do so.
> 
> "They are keeping her at Chateau Montblanc," recalled Aramis, touching his chin in a manner that looked far more like his old self. "The chateau is heavily fortified, and unfortunately for us it has remained in good condition since the days of Richelieu."
> 
> "Let me go."
> 
> Heads snapped around to where Philippe stood for the second time that night, eyes wide and alert at the softness of his request and the dangers that they knew it contained. The young man now knew everything that they did, and that put him in a rather dangerous position. With this information he might try something foolish, something that would once again put his own life at risk because he wanted to protect those he cared for most. And while this was an admirable trait for most young men, it was something they could not consider for many reasons. Being identified as the King aside, Aramis knew that neither Anne nor D'Artagnan would allow Philippe to walk into the middle of the city and proclaim himself as a pretender to the throne. They would lose him forever if he did that.
> 
> Aramis was the first to react, shaking his head quickly. "While I appreciate the fact that you want to help, we cannot allow you to be involved in this, Philippe. Your life is far too important to be traded away…even for Katherine."
> 
> It pained him to say those words, and he turned his gaze away from Philippe as soon as he had spoken them as regret filled his stomach and made him feel sick. There was nothing in this world that meant as much to him as Katherine did, and he knew that the others were aware of that fact. But while his own child's life hung in the balance, he could never again ask that Philippe risk himself the way that he had before. Not now that he knew D'Artagnan was his father. Had he known this truth from the beginning, he might have still ventured to set the boy free from his prison, but he never would have endangered his life the way that he had in order to set Philippe in Louis' place.
> 
> He could sense the boy stiffening, upset that his offer of help had been turned down so quickly without even being allowed a word in his defense. Aramis closed his eyes tightly as he heard the slam of the door that announced Philippe's departure from the room, breathing a sigh that saw his shoulders sag a little from the strain he was under. He heard Anne hurry to try and call him back, following him out of the room and closing the door behind her so that only he and D'Artagnan remained.
> 
> "I am sorry that I have upset your son," the old man said in his low growl. "I understand why he wishes to help us, but I cannot ask him to."
> 
> D'Artagnan shook his head. "He cares for your girl more than I thought," he confessed, scratching the back of his head. "I know what it feels like, to be so in love that you would risk your own life to save that person from any amount of hurt. I almost wish I could let him go."
> 
> "But you cannot."
> 
> "No, I cannot."
> 
> It was a comfortable silence that formed between the two friends for a moment, a silence they had come to understand well when they had both been serving the King with the dark black material of their tunics sitting proudly on their shoulders. These were the moments that could not be shared with anyone else that they knew, for while they loved Athos and Porthos as dear as brothers, the personalities were just too different to use the stillness as a form of communication. Aramis had grown rather used to the quiet that he found in his prayers every day, and it was D'Artagnan's patience that allowed for him to finish before the two would share a verbal conversation. Now there were times when words were not needed, and they both understood just when those times were.
> 
> Aramis turned his head to glance over at his friend. "Do you have a plan?"
> 
> "I believe I do."
> 
> "Good," he stated, moving to stand straight upright and fix the captain with a look of determination not seen since his younger days. "Than with your permission, Captain, I would like to go and get my daughter back."
> 
> Despite himself, D'Artagnan couldn't help but smile. "Permission granted."


	31. Chapter 31

> "Oh, my head…"
> 
> Everything hurt, but it was her head that seemed to be the worst of it as she pressed a hand against her temple and blinked to try and clear her vision. The images before her were blurry, swirling in a way that was completely unfamiliar as she attempted to take in her surroundings. The last thing that Katherine could remember was being helped into the carriage and bidding goodbye to her Papa and Uncle Athos before she left for the monastery again, anxious to get as far away from the palace as possible. Tolbert had left her a letter, she remembered that, a letter telling her that she was in danger, and therefore so was Philippe. It was that thought that had propelled her to go back to a place where she had believed that she would be safe, out of reach of those who wished to hurt him through her.
> 
> But that  _wasn't_  the last thing she remembered. No, there was something more. As she pushed a hand against the cold stone floor on which she lay and closed her eyes against the spell of dizziness that threatened to overcome her once again, Katherine was sure that she could remember more of what had happened on the road. The journey back home was not a short one, but it would not have taken as long as the initial journey to the palace had been in order to accommodate her uncle's weakened condition either. It had been perhaps an hour, maybe two? All she knew is that they had cleared the gates of the city itself when suddenly the carriage lurched forward at breakneck speed, slamming Katherine back into her seat with vicious force. She had called out to her driver, trying to figure out what it was that had prompted the sudden burst of speed, but there had been no response at all.
> 
> And then there was a shift in weight, and Katherine could feel the carriage itself sudden lose its balance on the road and begin to turn sharply to the right hand side, watching as the sky became more and more visible out of the windows to her left until at last everything had come to a stop. But she had hit her head when the carriage had overturned and began to fight in order to remain conscious. There had been shouts from above her, a man barking orders to other people about something when the carriage door had been pulled aside and a figure jumped down to reach her.
> 
> That was all she remembered.
> 
> "Ah…I was wondering when you might wake."
> 
> That voice…she knew that voice. Turning her head in the direction from which she thought the words had come, Katherine continued to try and push herself into a seated position while looking about her in an effort to locate the figure that was sure to accompany it.
> 
> "Tolbert? Tolbert, is that you?"
> 
> He chuckled darkly in a way that made Katherine flinch against the noise. "Yes, my dear. It is me."
> 
> The world slowly slid back into focus as she felt her back come into contact with the cold stone of the wall, blinking a few more times until everything had put itself back in place and the picture became clear. She was seated on the floor with her legs tucked out to the side of her beneath the soft material of her skirt, the room itself rather small with only a cot and a tiny window inside. Tolbert had seated himself on the edge of the cot and grinned down at her with a look that instantly made the girl uncomfortable in his presence. Something was wrong, she knew that instantly. Her head turned in every direction, looking for something familiar that might tell her what had happened and where she was.
> 
> "What happened?" she asked him, worry slipping into her words. "Something happened on the road…I was going back home when-"
> 
> "You were attacked," he said simply, lifting his hands in the air and rising to his feet to stand above her. "And now you're a prisoner of the King. Welcome to Chateau Montblanc, Mademoiselle."
> 
> Katherine blinked. "A prisoner of the King? That's impossible. The King did not even know that I was leaving the palace to return to the monastery…Papa was going to deliver a letter after I had left."
> 
> The chuckle sounded again. "Oh, don't worry, my dear. The King knows far more than you think he does."
> 
> "But I do not understand," she protested, shrinking back a little until she had moved herself as close to the wall as she could manage. "Who ordered you to bring me here?"
> 
> "That would be me."
> 
> All of a sudden, Katherine felt the entire room grow cold. Her eyes flew wide in a combination of shock and fear as she felt the sneer of Tolbert looming down upon her, but it was the voice that caused her heart to begin pounding in her chest. From the doorway just beyond where her captor stood she could see the outline of a body, a silhouette that closely resembled the one that she had previously seen walking the corridors of the palace and strolling the paths of the grounds. And while the voice could easily have passed for the other, there was no warmth in the tone at all which betrayed the identity of the speaker.
> 
> "You."
> 
> Louis smirked, stepping slowly into the room. "That's no way to address your King, now is it?"
> 
> "From where I sit, you are sadly lacking in a throne and a crown,  _Your Majesty_."
> 
> The venom in her words was unmistakable as she narrowed her eyes and hissed in his direction, which brought a scowl to the face of the young man who previously occupied the throne. Clearly he did not appreciate the reminder that he had been displaced by his younger twin brother, the one that he had tried so hard to conceal for the past six years. In the end he had failed in his task, and this creature who sat on the floor at his feet was all too pleased to remind him of the fact that his greatest failure had led to his removal from power. Louis continued to sneer down at her with cold distain, until at last he remembered the details that had secured his place in his plot. Then the smile returned, a calm overtaking his face.
> 
> "For now," he said with his usual confidence returning to him. "But we will shortly be able to remedy that, won't we Tolbert?"
> 
> "The letter was delivered, as per your orders, Your Majesty," replied the musketeer with a bow toward the younger man. "By this time, D'Artagnan will have surely read it and informed the others of your demands."
> 
> "Good," Louis replied. "Then I doubt we will have long to wait."
> 
> Turning himself to exit the room, Tolbert bowed once more as the young man passed him by and made as if to follow. The disgust that Katherine felt boiling in her belly seemed to boil over at that moment though and she couldn't help but spit her words at them without any heed for what might later occur from her spite. She pressed back against the wall and did her best to place some of her weight upon her feet, rising unsteadily against the cold stone wall.
> 
> "If you think my father will trade my life for that of the King, you are sadly mistaken," she hissed, eyes narrowed in her rage. "I do not know what it is you want with me, but I would sooner die then help to inflict your tyranny upon the people of France once again."
> 
> Before she knew what was happening, Louis had stepped around Tolbert again and crossed the short length of the room until he stood before her, his hand closing around her throat as he worked her back into the corner and held her tight. Katherine struggled against his grip and brought both of her hands up to try and pry his fingers away from her neck, gasping for the air that was being denied to her lungs. She could hear Tolbert attempting to call Louis off of her, but the villain simply ignored him and leaned in as close to Katherine's face as he could so that he could return the venom that she had previously showed to him.
> 
> "Perhaps they will not," he said, letting the words rumble in his chest. "But I know that my brother will not let you remain here as my prisoner. He has already become far more attached to you than I could have imagined he would be."
> 
> There was no mistaking the disgust that laced itself into his words, or the smirk that presented itself on his face now. "But worry not, my sister. I will not kill you yet. You are far more useful to me alive than dead."
> 
> And with that he released her, watching as her body sank back to the floor in a crumpled heap and she began to gasp for air. A round of coughing began to rack her body and had her doubled over with a hand to massage the tender skin that had been so viciously attacked only moments before. But there was no time for further words as both men exited the room and slammed the door behind them, leaving Katherine alone to hear the click of the lock that would keep her captive within those four walls.
> 
> There was no way for her to know just how far away Chateau Montblanc was from the palace itself, which meant that there was no way for her to guess just how far she had been taken from her Papa and the others. How long had they kept her there? How long had she been unconscious? And worst of all, what had Louis meant by his words? While he had opted not to refer to Philippe by name, he had still referred to their blood tie that kept them bonded. But he had called Katherine something similar as well, which had her stomach churning in knots as she thought that perhaps she had misunderstood him. Someone like Louis would only want to get her worked up, knowing that there was nothing she could do to free herself from this situation. And if Tolbert was working with him, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have fed all of the information that he possibly could to the enemy, which meant that Louis knew about her illness and he was going to use it against Katherine.
> 
> And that meant that the others were probably in more danger than they realized.
> 
> * * *
> 
> "Where is he?"
> 
> The fear in her voice was all it took for D'Artagnan to ignore the rest of the people who stood in that room and hurry over toward Anne, letting her press her hands against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist protectively. Without needing to ask, he knew exactly what it was that Anne had come in to ask. Somehow, despite all of his careful planning and the orders that he had barked at his men in order to ensure that things went smoothly, Philippe had managed to slip through a crack in his plan and had left the palace.
> 
> He was going after Katherine.
> 
> "We will get him back," he promised, holding her close for a moment as he turned his eyes to look at the others.
> 
> The alarm was evident in their faces as they too came to realize what was happening, knowing that things would need to happen even more quickly now that Philippe had willingly put himself in harm's way. They could guarantee nothing anymore. A wrench had been thrown in their plan and they would be expected to accommodate it as if they had expected such a thing to occur all along. And so they would, for he could see immediately see the wheels begin to turn in their minds at twice the speed as before. Aramis examined the map once more before he straightened himself up and turned to look across the room, his gaze sweeping along to meet his friends and Andre, who had proven himself to be a valuable ally in recent weeks.
> 
> "We know that Tolbert is the one who has betrayed us to Louis," he said, his features darkening as he frowned. "Which means that he will have almost all of the same information that we do in regards to Katherine and everything else. The only thing we do not know is how Louis knows about Katherine."
> 
> "It does not matter," declared Athos with a wave of his hand. "If Philippe has gone to Montblanc in order to try and rescue Katherine, then to Montblanc we will go."
> 
> D'Artagnan nodded, turning his gaze back to Anne. "We will bring them both home," he murmured to her, pressing the back of her hand to his lips. "I promise."
> 
> And with that they all filed out of the room, leaving Anne to stand alone and watch as they all disappeared through the doorway and out of sight. All she could do was stand by helplessly and pray that they would all return safely, remembering the last time that she had said goodbye to her love. Were it not for the very girl that they were now trying to save she would have lost him once before. And as she stood there, Anne couldn't help but wonder if she would be so lucky as to get him back a second time. All she wanted was for everyone to return home safely, without bloodshed or any massive battle that might threaten their lives. She wanted a happy ending, something she could smile upon as the years advanced and her own health began to decline.
> 
> She pressed both hands to her lips and closed her eyes. The words of her silent prayer began to roll through her mind, pleading with God to spare those she cared for and see this through peacefully. She could not bear the loss of either Philippe or D'Artagnan, and her heart would ache terribly if Louis were to become a victim of his own foolishness. But Katherine…the child was innocent, knowing nothing of her past or why it was that she had been brought into this plot to begin with. Her family needed to remain intact after all was said and done.
> 
> She needed to come home.


	32. Chapter 32

 

> "Chateau Montblanc…"
> 
> He could feel the horse moving nervously beneath him as he stopped it just before the tree line would expose his presence to any guards on watch. The stallion knew as well as he did that there was something sinister waiting for them just over the horizon and wanted nothing to do with it, pawing anxiously as he tried to turn his head around and lead them away from the impending dangers. But Philippe held him firm and refused to double back despite knowing that his father would never have allowed him to make the journey alone. While there had been ongoing discussion of how they were to rescue Katherine from the clutches of her captors without giving into Louis and his demands, Philippe had dressed himself in plain clothing and saddled a horse, sneaking off of the palace grounds before anyone could come to realize his intentions and stop him. He knew that all wanted to bring her back safely, but unless they gave into the demands that had been sent to them, there was no way of guaranteeing that they could accomplish that.
> 
> And Philippe wouldn't let Katherine pay for his actions with her life.
> 
> With a kick and a quick tug on the reins, Philippe steered his horse back toward the looming chateau that stood in the distance, prepared to cross the open field and never again return. He had known that if he were to surrender himself to his twin brother and whatever forces he had at his disposal, there was a very good chance that he would not live to see his parents or his friends again. Louis had once attempted to lock him away in the iron mask that had been his prison for so many years, but after a betrayal like the one that had transpired that night at the Bastille, he was sure that his brother would not risk his existence for another day. With the support of D'Artagnan and the others behind him he would forever remain a danger to the power that Louis so desperately craved, a shadow that would haunt him continually until he had been thrown into the light and removed from existence.
> 
> He was scared, he couldn't deny that fact. Between the feeling of impending doom and the uncertainty of what might actually happen to him, it made perfect sense for the boy to be concerned with his wellbeing. But there was another life to consider, one that was in no condition to fight off her attackers as she had before when Philippe had first set eyes on her, a young woman donned in men's clothing as she held a sword tightly in her hand and defended his life in addition to her own. That young woman had known nothing of what lie in store for her, never having guessed that a trap lay in wait for the exact moment that she left the palace walls. Yet she had sent him one letter, a single sheet of paper that told the boy exactly how she felt about him and that alone was enough to spur him forward.
> 
> The heavily fortified gates of the chateau were menacing to his smaller form as he approached them, holding the reins a little tighter in his hand so that he might not shake quite so badly before them. His horse whinnied once, shaking his head to try and dissuade his rider from going any further but Philippe would take no heed. He would do what he had come to do.
> 
> "Louis!" he called, hearing his voice echo in the silence. "I am here, and I am alone. Let the girl go!"
> 
> There was no verbal response to his request, save for the terrible creaking that came as someone unbolted the doors and slowly pulled them aside so that he might ride through and into the belly of the beast itself. Philippe paused only a moment before giving his horse another firm kick, taking them both beyond the boarder of the gates that closed just as quickly behind him. At the slam there was a swarm of activity as men leapt out from all of the hiding places one could imagine, pointing both swords and guns in his direction. Bright eyes scanned his surroundings to take in the number of men who had been appointed to "greet" him upon his arrival before he slowly slid from the side of the stallion and raised his hands in the air to show that he would not resist. No sooner had he done that when two sets of hands grabbed him from behind and immediately began to shuffle through his pockets, looking for any weaponry he might have concealed on his person. Finding nothing they gave him a shove forward until he nearly ran into another man, the one who held the rope that would be used to bind his hands in front of his body. With this done they finally shoved him toward an opening in the external wall of the building and grunted for him to move.
> 
> Through the seemingly endless tunnels and corridors they took him, taking care not to head in one direction for too long lest he be keeping an eye on things that might aid in his escape later on, but Philippe felt that this was a pointless waste of energy. He would not be trying to escape, not while there was still someone else to consider, and not even when she was free. Coming to his place was an exchange, Katherine's life for his own, and if Louis honoured his word and released her upon his surrender than he was happy to suffer whatever punishment his brother had chosen as his fate. That was the reason that he had left all of his loved ones behind and ventured forth with such danger awaiting him. That alone was why he had come.
> 
> He was yanked to a halt in the middle of a large hall, one he presumed would ordinarily have been filled with people as they took in their daily meals. But the large tables that might have been laid with food had been pushed to the wall or removed all together, an elaborate rug laid out on the floor beneath his feet. Otherwise there were few decorations about the room itself, the walls showing only the standard crest of the household and a few hung pieces of weaponry that had been crossed over one another and mounted on brackets for easy access. There was but a single chair in the room, a large piece of sturdy oak that sat before the roaring fire to further bring out the shadowed features of the occupant and give him a more menacing glare.
> 
> "Louis."
> 
> It was perhaps the coldest look that Philippe had ever seen that was directed down upon him, a stare so void of happiness that it might possibly freeze the very room in which they stood. Nothing about his brother had changed in the last few weeks save for the removal of the mask that he had once forced upon Philippe. His hair was still perfectly done and pulled back to prevent it from obscuring his vision, his clothes were still made of fine materials that denoted his higher class to all who might see him. But his eyes were unforgiving to the point of being purely resentful as he looked down upon his younger twin, blue meeting blue in a battle for dominance.
> 
> "You see?" Louis asked, raising his voice a little so that he might address all who stood in the room. "Even the traitor refers to me by my true name, the very one that he has adopted in order to fool this country into thinking that he could pass for their King."
> 
> There was no laughter from the various men who stood around, not a sound at all, and so Louis continued. "I thought perhaps you might give yourself up. I understand you have become rather attached to that girl recently."
> 
> Though Philippe said not a word, Louis knew that the truth rang clear in his eyes. It was such a weakening emotion, this love that everyone seemed to praise. It served as nothing more than a distraction, something that would prevent you from thinking clearly and setting yourself above other people when that was your God-given right in life. He had seen it many times as he grew up, and every time Louis had sneered at it from afar and turned his back so that the infection might not spread to him as well. There had been but one brief moment where he had succumbed to it, allowing it to take control of his actions and prompt him to do something nearly foolish, but the truth had been revealed in time and he had been spared of its grasp. Never again, he had vowed. And yet here was his brother before him, a victim of the very same emotion that had once nearly threatened to ruin the life that he had established for himself. Of course, it wasn't entirely the same thing, he rationalized to himself.
> 
> "As I expected," he taunted.
> 
> "Where is she?"
> 
> Louis raised a brow at the force behind his brother's words, a tone quite unlike what he had heard in previous conversation.  _Interesting_ , he thought to himself.  _Perhaps my brother has some promise of manhood in him after all._  Too bad it will be short lived, added another little voice in his head.
> 
> "She is of no concern to you-"
> 
> "I want to see her, Louis. I want proof that you have not harmed her in any way."
> 
> As the staring match began between the two of them, it appeared that Louis might perhaps be considering the weight of the demand that had been placed before him. The rest of the room seemed to grow rather still, for none had dared to speak to Louis like that when he was King, and certainly not now that he had the power to snap his fingers and bring his brother's life to an end. Yet it seemed that there was a trace of amusement showing in the bright depths of Louis's eyes, because a slow, evil smirk began to show upon his face as the cold blue of his eyes looked down upon his younger twin. With a turn of his head Louis nodded toward the dark figure that loomed in the doorway, watching only to see him bow in acknowledgment before he scurried away and out of sight.
> 
> It seemed that Louis had anticipated such a request, for not even a minute later the man emerged again with another, suspending the thin figure of the young woman between the two of them. She struggled as best as she could in their grasp, her hands bound before her and a gag placed around her mouth to prevent her from crying out. As she was brought into the room, Katherine continued to thrash as much as her body would allow, though neither man seemed to really register the weak movements of their captive, while her eyes glared daggers at the man who stood at the head of the room and regarded with her cold distain.
> 
> "Katherine."
> 
> It was only with Philippe's voice that Katherine finally seemed to register the fact that he was in the room, her head snapping around with wide set eyes to look at him. The young man made as if to move a step in her direction and was quickly stopped by those who stood at his side, held tightly as their hands encircled his upper arms and yanked him backward once again. All at once the fire died in her eyes and the struggling once again renewed itself, but this time with the pitiful cries that were muffled by the rag tied around her mouth. There was a battle as each tried to get to the other. And when her body could no longer maintain the exertion that she had begun to show, she fell to her knees and began to shake, blinking quickly as her chest heaved in her struggle to breathe. To see him there, standing in the very same room as his brother…the fool had come. He had somehow managed to slip past the securities that D'Artagnan would have placed around the palace for his protection and given himself up to Louis in order to try and save her life. But she knew that it was all for naught. Louis had no intention of letting her go.
> 
> He would never let them go.
> 
> "How touching," came the frosty voice from across the room, his eyes dancing between the two figures. "To be reunited only to be torn apart forever."
> 
> It was the sound of his laughter that made Katherine shiver and cower slightly from her place between the two men, hunched over and laying against the cold floor. As she recoiled, the motions did not escape Philippe's notice and he immediately turned around to address his brother again, this time in a tone of anger that Katherine had never before heard.
> 
> "You fiend," he growled. "You know that she is not well, Louis, and still you continue to hurt her like this. What are you going to gain by putting her through this?!"
> 
> Louis chuckled. "Oh, there are a great many things I intend to gain by using her, brother. Not least of all is the sympathy of the people when they learn that our father's bastard has decided to usurp my throne and remove me from it."
> 
> Philippe blinked up at him. "You knew-"
> 
> "Of course I knew!" snapped Louis, cutting his brother off entirely. "As he lay dying our father confessed of your existence to two of us, but only one of us knew of the other child born of his blood. It took some time, some careful digging for me to find out who she was and what had happened to her. And when I learned that she had been living quietly at a monastery for nearly twenty years I knew she was no threat to me."
> 
> Then he turned, hands behind his back as he stepped down from the place he had occupied and slowly made his way back over to Katherine, looking down upon her as he would have looked at one of the beggars who lined his streets, imploring passersby for food in order to survive. "But that night at the Bastille I saw her with you and the others, and I realized just how careless I had been. With Aramis putting all of his noble nonsense in her head she was sure to have learned from the others as well, so my surveillances had been for nothing. I thought I was safe."
> 
> Here he stopped, leaning forward until he was able to cup Katherine's chin in his hand and force her gaze upward. For a moment he regarded her in silence. "I know better now," he said, murmuring to them all with a conviction that Louis had never truly possessed before. "When this is over, there will be no more threats to my kingdom."
> 
> Throwing her head away, Katherine could feel the snap in her neck as Louis forced her head away, but she uttered not a sound. She no longer attempted to pull away from the men who held her in her place and the look on her face was worn with exhaustion. From his own place in the room, Philippe could tell that she was not healing the way that she had been before, noting the pale look of her face that made her bright blue eyes stand out all the more. He pulled away, yanking his shoulders to try and shake the men off of him, but they held him fast. They had no intention of letting him go, and Louis would see to it that he would never again be able to feel the joys that freedom had brought for him. Death was the only adventure that awaited him now.
> 
> "Remove them from my sight," Louis ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I care not what you do with my brother, but be careful with the girl. I will require my sister in the near future."
> 
> Sister.
> 
> There was that word again, causing Katherine's head to swim madly as she attempted to comprehend what it was that he was talking about. In the years that she had been alive she had come to identify Aramis as her father despite knowing that there was no blood connection between them, and D'Artagnan would have identified himself as being her father if that indeed was the case. Looking upward at Philippe in questioning fear, she found that his eyes were not looking back in her direction. They were instead focused upon Louis, staring widely as his mouth hung agap in shock. There was a lack of understanding written across his face that immediately set Katherine's stomach in knots again for reasons she did not understand, a reaction that was short lived. As soon as she felt herself being dragged to her feet once more and pulled backward, she tried her best to wiggle in their grasp, calling out in muffled words to Philippe.
> 
> All was lost.
> 
> Louis had managed to get his hands on Philippe after everything that had been done to try and keep him safe, and in taking her he had attempted to cripple the resolve of the men who would likely have tried to save her if their King's life was not also at risk. She could only imagine how sick with worry they would all be when they found out that Philippe had left their care in order to come and find her, foolishly hoping that his surrender might allow for her release. And now there was nothing else to be done. Even if they were to attack the chateau, she knew it was heavily fortified. The chances of them being able to get inside before someone hurt Philippe were slim.
> 
> She would never see her father again.


	33. Chapter 33

 

> "Sister…"
> 
> How could be possibly have been so blind? He should have known that there would be people who were still linked to Louis, people who would have come to know the events that transpired that night when D'Artagnan pieced together their plan and cornered his friends as they attempted to escape with Louis. It was his nervousness at the ball that night, the slip ups with Christine and the woman who had fallen before him during the dance that had given him away. His men would have seen the pair standing close together when they stopped them on the river, and then again at the Bastille during his rescue. Despite the order that they would all be sworn to silence for whatever they might have heard he knew he should have been more careful with the men. But his mind had been occupied with other thoughts, caught in a never-ending spiral of fear, hope and relief as one thing after another came to happen within the palace walls.
> 
> The way that Louis spoke though, the words that he had chosen to use…Philippe quickly came to realize just how little his brother truly knew about the situation at hand. While he was standing there, seemingly confident in the power that he could hold above the head of his twin, he addressed Katherine as being the old King's bastard child, the sister that he had known about for as long as he had known about Philippe. He was blissfully ignorant of his true parentage. He still believed himself to be the son of a man who had proven himself a worthy political pawn to another man during his lifetime. He thought that Katherine was their half-sister through blood.
> 
> He didn't know.
> 
> His captors lead him through the maze of corridors and up a tight flight of stairs before they pulled aside the heavy wooden door and shoved him forward into the room, bolting it just as quickly as they had opened it. There was barely time for his body to register the hard impact of the floor beneath his knees before he fell forward and landed face down on the cold stone, feeling his hip come into contact with something hard as well. Philippe hissed in pain as he rolled to his side, eyes closed and teeth grit tightly together. With one hand he gingerly tried to rub the spot in his hip, only to wince again and remove the pressure that his fingers attempted to place on the sore area. It was the leg of a bed that he had hit, he could see it now; a large wooden frame of heavy oak that took up a large percentage of the floor space he currently occupied, looming above his head with a threatening air. Groaning to himself the young man pressed an elbow down into the floor and slowly began to push himself upward until he was in a seated position, touching his head to make sure it had not suffered any damage in the fall.
> 
> "Philippe?"
> 
> Suddenly the world seemed to put itself back together again as he turned his head quickly and looked about him, turning his body over so that he might approach as soon as he had found where the voice had come from. He would know it anywhere, for it was a sound that had come to live comfortably in his ears and seemed to be a melodious tune unto itself. It took but a moment for him to find her, curled on the floor where she had been haphazardly dropped after her captors had returned her to the room. She was still bound at the hands, though the gag had since been removed, and from seeing her Philippe could tell that she had not been kindly treated since the time of her capture. There was a fear in her eyes, a fear etched so deeply that it almost seemed to age her as she lay against the hard ground, looking over at him as if she might lose control of her emotions at any moment.
> 
> Philippe scrambled to his feet and rushed to her side, kneeling down beside her so that he might help her up into the same seated position he had taken only a moment ago. His fingers fumbled a little with the rope that had been used to tie her hands together, pulling at the knot until it fell away and tumbled to the floor between them to lay entirely forgotten as Katherine's arms wound themselves around his neck and he in turn pull her close at the waist. Every ounce of tension that she held in her body could be felt as she pressed tightly to him, burying her face into the crook of his neck as her shoulders began to shake. Philippe turned his head a little, allowing himself to feel the smooth texture of her hair against his cheek as one hand came up to cup the back of her head and hold her a little more. A sigh of relief sounded from the young man as he did. At least she was still alive. There was still hope for them yet.
> 
> After a moment he pulled back, looking at her with concern as his hand moved around from the back of her head to her temple and cheek, his eyes looking her up and down. "Are you alright?" he asked quickly, a hint of fear in his words. "Did they hurt you?"
> 
> Katherine shook her head, letting one of her own hands reach up to slip around the one he now held against her cheek, fingers pressing tightly to his palm. Then she shot back to where she had been before with her face pressed to his neck. "Louis told them not to harm me, but he does not wish for me to regain enough strength to fight him."
> 
> For a moment the two of them were left in silence, each clinging to the other as if their lives depended upon it. Philippe held her as tightly as he dared until he was able to press most of her body up against his own and feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. The fear that they shared could be felt between them as they sat there on the floor, his arms protectively wrapped around her as if they alone might shield her from the dangers that awaited them outside of that door. Neither knew what fate awaited them, but they were both more than aware of the fact that Louis would not be kind to them for the role that they had each played in helping to remove him from his throne.
> 
> "You fool," she whispered to him, causing the boy to look down at her in confusion. "What are you doing?" Katherine demanded, her voice a broken whisper as she pulled her head back just far enough to look up at him with tear stained eyes. "Louis will kill you for what has been done to him, you know that! Why are you here?"
> 
> "I could not let you go," he murmured, moving his hand to gently brush away a stray tear with his thumb. "Not at the risk of your life. You and I both know that Louis saw you at the Bastille that night." Then the young man paused, collecting himself. "I read your letter."
> 
> Her eyes dropped along with her head, coming to rest on his shoulder. Despite the voice in the back of her mind that screamed of the inappropriate way that she held onto him, Katherine refused to let go. With the road ahead filled with such uncertainty all she wanted was to feel safe, comforted. And those feelings were exactly what she got by staying in Philippe's embrace and ignoring the way that her body ached to be down on the floor as it was, twisted up so that she could curl into his arms a little more. The rest of the world seemed to momentarily melt away as he held her, a feeling that she had experienced only once before, the night that she had danced with him before the whole court. Was it so wrong to want that feeling again?
> 
> As he began to shift, Katherine felt the tension shoot into her arms and hold tightly to the loop that she had created around his neck. She looked up in surprise as he slowly adjusted the placement of his body weight and slipped his arms into a new position, one around her back with the other beneath her knees until he was able to push back to his feet with her body secured in his arms. His eyes never left her as he slowly moved toward the side of the bed and held her too him, placing her down as carefully as one might handle china or glass. And as he placed her head against the pillow, Katherine felt her breath hitch a little. That look…could it really be what she thought it was? Or was she simply imagining things?
> 
> All she could see was the brilliant blue shade of Philippe's eyes staring down at her, clouded slightly with an expression she had never before seen aimed in her direction. At first it was a little startling to see such an intensity in his gaze, and despite herself Katherine found that she held her breath.
> 
> Philippe sat himself on the edge of the bed, continuing to look down upon her. A few weeks ago he would have given almost anything for a moment like this, a moment where the truth could finally be heard through the crystal clear silence that surrounded them and in that lack of sound Katherine would come to understand absolutely everything that he felt. How he had wished for the day when he could express that to her and know that her affections were indeed the same as the ones he felt wriggling around in his stomach every time he looked at her. Did she truly understand how his heart would flutter at the mere thought of her? How the sound of her name alone was all it took to create chills that showed upon his flesh? Less than a day ago he might have said no, she didn't realize the depths of his love at all and the effect that she had on him. But now, as their eyes connected and neither body seemed willing to move, he knew that she finally understood.
> 
> Twisting himself so that he was angled in her direction, Philippe slowly began to lower his body toward Katherine's. They both knew what the intention was, it was written into the gaze that they shared as the gap between them grew smaller and smaller with the passing seconds. And neither one of them was willing to pull away, to stop the outcome before it happened. Eyes began to close as she felt the warmth of his body draw closer, anxious for the feeling that would soon overtake her being.
> 
> **BOOM!**
> 
> It was the sound of cannon fire that broke the two apart before they were able to connect, turning both heads toward the window and the shouts that sounded from below. Philippe leapt to his feet and bolted across the room to stand by the open window, listening as men barked orders back and forth and scurried around the interior wall of the chateau. Another boom sounded, this one closer to where they were being held, as the floor shook slightly beneath them. Katherine pushed herself up onto her elbows, curling her legs beneath her until she was able to raise herself into a seated position once again. The pair exchanged a look, one that spoke of alarm. What was happening?
> 
> "You!" came a voice from below, clearly addressing another group of men. "To the main gate! Take whatever ammunition you can find and keep them back!"
> 
> "What is it, sir?" called another.
> 
> Again, the first voice shouted above the chaos. "D'Artagnan leads his musketeers toward the chateau!"
> 
> Katherine's hand flew to her mouth in shock, her heart pounding quickly in her chest. The musketeers were on the advance, approaching the fortified chateau in the hopes of coming to rescue their King from the tyranny that held him captive. And if D'Artagnan was indeed leading his men forward in this attack, her own dear Papa was sure to be among their number, followed closely by Athos and Porthos. But Louis was ready for them, he had likely anticipated that once Philippe turned himself over to his evil grasp, there would be retaliation from those who were supportive of the place that he had come to occupy in the eyes of France. He would see to it that they were all killed.
> 
> "Philippe!"
> 
> He wasted not a moment in crossing back to her, taking ahold of her outstretched hand and quickly sitting himself back on the bed to take her into his arms once more, pressing her tightly to his chest as one hand stroked her hair. He knew better than most of the anticipation and terror that she was sure to feel, knowing that her father was once again willingly placing himself in danger. D'Artagnan was there was well, his own father, the very man who had once nearly died in order to save the life of the son he barely knew. They had seen first-hand the amount of pain that a father was willing to endure in order to spare his child. Would they be so lucky to see a positive outcome a second time?
> 
> "They will be alright," he murmured to her, swallowing his own fears as he spoke. "They will have a plan. They always do."
> 
> But this time he couldn't be sure. He had left the palace long before any such discussion could take place, which meant that Philippe was just as in the dark and vulnerable as the fragile woman he held in his arms. He blinked quickly, trying to clear his head so that he might think at least one step ahead of the brother who hated him so badly. Yet all he could think of was the danger that Katherine was in because of her blood.
> 
> _Blood…_
> 
> Philippe pulled back, holding onto Katherine's upper arms in both of his hands as he tried to find her gaze. "Kate," he began, his words hurried and firm enough that she immediately responded to his voice. "There is something you need to know. Louis wanted me because I am his flesh and blood and I was able to pretend that I was him. But he still thinks that he is the son of the old King. He does not know that the old King had only one child in his lifetime."
> 
> She blinked, giving her head a small shake. "I do not understand."
> 
> "He had only one child," he repeated hurriedly. "Richelieu tricked him into creating a child with one of the maids who cared for my Mother, a woman he had drugged. When she discovered what had happened, she retired to have the baby, but she lived only long to give the child to a young musketeer who promised to find her a good home. That child was left on the steps of a-"
> 
> His words were interrupted by the sound of the heavy wooden door being thrown open wide, coming to a stop only when it slammed against the stone wall on the inside of the chamber. Through the opening spilled half a dozen men who immediately stepped into the room and surrounded the bed on which Philippe and Katherine sat. The boy moved to try and protect her, twisting himself sharply so that Katherine's smaller body was placed behind his back as his eyes darted about to see which would be the first to move. Tolbert entered just behind them, his sword and dagger attached to his belt, and Louis entered just behind him in armour that bore no ceremonial decoration or engravings. With a single look toward the pair, he nodded toward his men.
> 
> "Take him."
> 
> Despite the way that she clung to him, Katherine was unable to maintain her grip on Philippe for long. Three of the men immediately jumped forward to break the two apart, all of them forced to wrestle with young man while a fourth one stepped in to force his hands roughly on Katherine's arms and yank her as far back in the opposite direction as possible. All she could do was scream as she struggled to remain free, easily overtaken by the larger man who seemed more than happy to pull her until her back was pressed firmly to his front. She wiggled as best as she could, trying to tear herself free, but to no avail. She wasn't strong enough to battle with the vice-like grip the man had on her.
> 
> "You coward!" she spat at Louis, watching as Philippe continued to thrash around between his captors. "You cannot even deal with the issue yourself! You have to send three other men to do your dirty work for you because you do not have the guts it takes to handle your own brother!"
> 
> Before she knew it, Louis had taken the two steps he needed to cross the distance between them and brought the back of his open hand across her face. Her head snapped violently in the other direction and a cry sounded from her throat at the harsh contact she felt, her ears suddenly filled with the sharp sound of his skin connecting with her own and the shout that she heard come from Philippe. Despite her efforts to remain on her feet she could feel her knees crumple beneath her, the bruising grip of the man behind her being the only thing that kept her from falling back to the floor in a heap. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, the side of her face stinging more than she had ever felt before.
> 
> "I have heard enough from you," growled Louis, turning sharply on his heel to address Tolbert. "You know what to do. Take her, but do not harm her yet."
> 
> Tolbert nodded in understanding and moved deeper into the room until he was able to take control of Katherine from the other man, who exited quickly ahead of the group that continued to hold Philippe. "And the boy?" he asked.
> 
> Louis turned slowly, his eyes dark with the tell-tale signs of blood lust. "Leave my brother to me."
> 
> He removed himself from the room just as quickly as he had entered. Philippe continued his attempted escape as they dragged him through the door and down the corridor, ignoring the protest that both his body and his voice gave. As they pulled him away, he continued to scream out her name at the top of his lungs, hoping against hope that he might be able to return in order to spare her from whatever fate awaited at Tolbert's traitorous hands. But the sound of his voice only caused the pain to sink further into her body until it settled into her heart, the walls of her chest becoming so tight that the effort to breathe nearly caused the girl to lose consciousness. It was only the sheering pain of having one arm twisted behind her back that brought Katherine back to her senses, screaming like she had never screamed before in her life. It was so intense that she could see the dots dancing about before her eyes and make the room swirl dangerously, a pain that only exploded further as she tried to fight it off.
> 
> "Come now," hissed Tolbert, twisting her arm a little tighter as he took control of the other one as well. "I believe that you and I have an appointment to keep. I would hate for you to miss what we have in store for Aramis and his friends."
> 
> Most of the forward motion that she could feel was coming from his own legs, her own could barely handle the thought of moving let alone the action. But her mind was whirling again, her stomach in knots as she thought of her father being in danger. And Philippe…where had Louis taken him? She would have given anything to have been well enough to fight properly at that moment, even if it meant sacrificing her own life in the end to ensure that the others made it through this ordeal safely. She knew not where she was being taken, tears had begun to leak from the corners of her eyes and blurred the vision that she might otherwise have used to get her bearings. All she had were the sounds that echoed through the corridor from the battle outside as men struggled to keep the musketeers at bay, hiding behind the thickness of the fortress wall.
> 
> "You will lose," she whispered through her pain, even as her shoulder made contact with the hard stone wall of the staircase that she now stumbled down. "No matter how hard you fight or what you do with me, you will lose this battle, Tolbert."
> 
> But the man just grit his teeth and twisted harder, giving her another shove for good measure. "We shall see about that, my dear."


	34. Chapter 34

 

> "Protect the King!"
> 
> "Save King Louis!"
> 
> "Tear it down, men!"
> 
> The cries of their comrades spurred the musketeers on as the fight continued to unfold, cannons being fired and the battering ram moving further forward through the swords that clashed sharply against one another as they struggled to make their way to the heavy wooden door that separated the field from the chateau. Only hours before had D'Artagnan gone to his men and taken the risk of confessing most of the truth in their situation to them. Yes, Louis had been born with an identical twin brother. Yes, that was the man that they had seen concealed behind the iron mask that night at the Bastille. And yes, the two of them had been switched so that France might have a chance at surviving the English threat that was still around the corner. He had omitted the details about the boy's true paternity, not for his own sake, but for Anne. She was so well loved by the people, even now, that he could not bear to allow the slander to fall upon her name just so that he could be recognized as the father of France's King. It was also spoken that Katherine was not the bastard child of the old King, but rather a pawn that had once been of interest to Cardinal Richelieu, carefully hidden and guarded over the last twenty years for her own protection.
> 
> It was clear almost instantly that some of the men had guessed as much, while others were content to know that their country was one step closer to being secure in the hands of Philippe. None of them really questioned the exchange of brothers, nor seemed to truly care. Apparently the love that the people had once felt for Louis was completely gone even among his own personal guard, for they seemed more than eager to head right into danger for the sake of the boy they had come to admire. They had assembled in the matter of an hour, horses saddled and ready for them to mount, cannons placed on wagons so that they could be more easily transported to the sight they were required. And before he or his friends could so much as give the order, his men were lined up at the gates awaiting the moment when their captain would take his place at the head of their number to lead them forward.
> 
> Now they were fighting the guard that had stood waiting for them outside the chateau, many of them without the horses that they had set out with as swords were drawn and the harsh scrape of metal on metal filled the air. Bodies had begun to litter the ground as the enemy slowly began to fall in number, mixed with the occasional uniform of black as a musketeer gave his own life to try and save his King. Everywhere about him there were the sounds of feral cries in the air, the screams of men run through with swords to combine with the heavy thud that sounded at the wall of the chateau. And yet he heard none of it. All that D'Artagnan could hear was the pounding of his heart as it hammered violently in his chest and collided with his thoughts.
> 
> _Louis had Katherine and Philippe…_
> 
> His own sword had already brought about the death of three men since the storming of the chateau had begun, with many more laying behind him as Athos, Porthos and Aramis all joined the immediate charge. It was like old times for a moment, the four of them racing into danger with little care for their own lives because they knew it to be their duty. And yet this time couldn't have been more different if he had tried to imagine it otherwise, for it wasn't just their King that they were fighting to save now. It was their children, one a King to run the country and the other a girl who had helped to heal his heart so many times over in the past. It was their lives that they fought for now, putting aside the knowledge that none of them were as young as they had once been. The chances of dying on this expedition were far greater than they had ever been. And yet they moved onward.
> 
> As the shout came that the gate had finally been broken into, D'Artagnan quickly turned his head. "The gate! Quickly!"
> 
> They did not need to be told twice. Aramis immediately knocked aside the man who attempted to charge him and Porthos used the butt of his sword to render his attacker unconscious before they moved to join their leader. Only Athos lingered a moment longer, waiting for the opportunity to run his opponent through with the point of his sword, dropping the body against the unforgiving ground on his way to the gate. There was a new wave of men spilling from the wall's open wound, roaring more viciously than those who already fought on the primary battle field. With swords held tightly in their hands they hurried through the throng of death of destruction, fighting all who stood in their way with renewed fury before they managed to make their way inside the walls, confronted by yet another string of men who stood with Louis in their fight. A snarl appeared on D'Artagnan's lip as three rushed toward them, each armed with a weapon of their own and the deep-bellied cry that he had heard since the fighting began. He'd had quite enough of this already.
> 
> "Go," Porthos shouted, stepping up to place a hand on D'Artagnan's shoulder and raise his own sword in defiance. "I will deal with these pups and come find you when I can. Go, find the children."
> 
> There was no time to argue with his friend, though D'Artagnan was caught off guard by having an order thrown at him by Porthos. For one who was usually so cheerful and full of the life that he had been given, the sudden look of anger that overtook his heavy features was enough to bring a nod from D'Artagnan before he turned away.
> 
> "Take care, my friend."
> 
> As he and the other two continued to make their way toward the chateau, he heard only the terrifying roar of Porthos before it was overtaken by the angry clash of swords and the soft thumps of flesh. Without a doubt, Porthos would fight more honourably than any of those who stood beside Louis…but with the safety of both Katherine and Philippe standing precariously on the brink, he would take no prisoners on this day. You would either surrender or be placed in an early grave.
> 
> Athos, Aramis and D'Artagnan continued to run around the outside of the chateau, searching for a doorway that would allow them entrance to the maze and thus truly begin their search for the children. But the way was thick with men who fought for their opposing sides, some wearing the blue tunic of the musketeer while others simply fought in whatever they had chosen to bring with them to the battle. Despite his desire to once again sit upon the throne of France, Louis had not concerned himself with a guard who fought under the same banner as the musketeers did, a further sign of the chaos that would await them if he were to emerge victorious at sundown.
> 
> Waving their own swords in an effort to pass through the fighting, the three men pushed their way forward until at last they found a heavy wooden door that would lead them into the chateau itself. And as luck would have it, the door had not been bolted against them. But to find themselves gaining entrance so easily set Athos immediately on edge, his eyes darting about the kitchen area to see who lay in wait for them. With no rebel daring to show his face, they pushed onward. Having entered through a servant's door and into the kitchens meant that the main chamber of the chateau could not be far off, and from there they could either gauge where they should look or spread themselves out in an effort to locate Louis, who was sure to have Philippe with him, if not Katherine as well.
> 
> "I do not like this," Athos said, gritting his teeth as they moved into a small corridor and hurried their way along the stone walls. "It was far too easy to get inside."
> 
> Aramis nodded in agreement, eyes shifting about to try and absorb everything that he saw around them as the corridor began to cut off in places to the different passage ways used by the servants of the chateau. "I like this not at all."
> 
> But what else was there for them to do? Until they were able to find where both Philippe and Katherine were being held they had no choice but to wander blindly through the interior of the building. And knowing what they did of Louis, they knew that their task was likely to be doubly difficult as he wouldn't be foolish enough to keep them both in the same place. If the barrier was breached as it had become, then separating them would provide him with twice the chance of winning, for he knew that they would never willingly sacrifice one for the other. He would catch them in a trap sooner or later, and they could only pray that they were still clever and quick enough to avoid the dangers as they had been in their youth. Now was not the time to be making foolish mistakes, not when young lives were hanging in the balance.
> 
> Down the corridor they went, attempting to be as silent as they were able to be in the heavy leather boots that were part of the musketeer uniform. There was something eerie about the place that they had entered, something not quite right. Even before they reached the main hall, where people would have sat themselves at large tables to dine, did this feeling creep over their skin and leave goosebumps in its wake. And it seemed that the feeling was shared between all three men, who cautiously glanced at one another as they took in the surroundings of the room.
> 
> "I have a bad feeling about this," Athos growled, crouching slightly in a defensive stance as he looked around him.
> 
> "Good."
> 
> It was a deeper voice that now spoke and destroyed the silence that had lingered about them, a voice that mixed with the softer cries of the woman he held tightly to him as he pressed the tip of a dagger under her chin. All three heads turned sharply to look at the pair, eyes wide with fright as they came to realize just how much danger Katherine was truly in. The bend in her knees indicated that she was barely able to stand on her own, her arms secured behind her somehow so that she couldn't fight against Tolbert's hold even if she had the strength to do so. But it was the red mark upon her face that caught Aramis' attention, and his features darkened into a dangerous growl when he took note of the abuse his daughter had suffered since her capture.
> 
> "Let her go, Tolbert," his voice rumbling in a menacing tone. "Let her go or I swear-"
> 
> "You will what?" he asked in response, grinning brightly as he chuckled in amusement. "What untold horrors await me because I have her? She is not truly your child, Aramis. She is nothing more than the bastard daughter of a King who was too weak to rule."
> 
> "I said let her go!"
> 
> Tolbert chuckled once more. "You want her? Come and get her."
> 
> "Papa, no! Louis has Philippe, you must not waste your time on-"
> 
> But her words were cut off as she cried out once more, feeling the dagger press even more tightly into her skin and her wrists twist a little further. The sneer returned to Tolbert's face as he inflicted further pain upon his captive, his obvious attempts at keeping her silent having failed to ensure that such information was not given to the musketeers. Apparently he should have gagged the wench again in order to spare himself the hassle of her loose tongue. But no matter, he thought to himself. When all was said and done he would be able to deal with the bastard child in his own way, for Louis would not care to keep her around once he had succeeded with his plans. She was a pawn, nothing more. And as a pawn, that meant that she was disposable.
> 
> "Silence," Tolbert hissed against her ear, his eyes darting back to look at the trio before him.
> 
> Already though, his advantage was gone.
> 
> "His battle is with me," Athos murmured to his friends, never once removing his eyes from the movements that could be made against his niece's throat. "The man I injured that day at headquarters…the one who placed himself in the cell with Philippe…that was Tolbert's older brother."
> 
> D'Artagnan remembered well the day that Athos had stormed into musketeer headquarters, having just learned that his beloved son had been killed by enemy fire while fighting the Dutch. Only later would it be discovered that Louis had sent him to that exact location, placing him in front of the cannons so that his death would come more swiftly and release the woman that Raoul had loved to Louis' bed. Yet the anger that had burned inside of his friend on that day had not died after the brief altercation, and D'Artagnan well knew that it continued to drive him forward even now.
> 
> But he did remember the man who had suffered the most at Athos' hand, and he couldn't help but chide himself internally for not having made the connection earlier on.
> 
> "It is my daughter that he tolds in his hands," Aramis argued, raising his sword. "Go, both of you, and find Philippe. I will not leave my daughter again."
> 
> The fierceness in his tone and the way in which his eyes were locked upon the still figures of Katherine and Tolbert were all that his friends needed to see and hear. Nothing they could say in protest would have dissuaded Aramis from this, nor could either of them condemn the dedication that he showed toward his child, for both of them had once experienced a similar feeling of love and devotion to their own. Though both were loath to actually leave him to face Tolbert alone, they could not ignore the constant flickering of Katherine's eyes as she tried to direct them to where Philippe had been taken, motioning silently to the staircase that surely lay somewhere behind her.
> 
> "Catch up when you can."
> 
> No other words were exchanged as D'Artagnan and Athos moved swiftly back into the corridor from which they had just come, knowing that there would be no opportunity to get around Tolbert within the dining hall unless they wished to see further harm come to Katherine. And for the time being, neither of them could stomach that.
> 
> Now, it was all up to Aramis.
> 
> "I  _will_  kill you," vowed the aged priest. "Make no mistake of that."
> 
> The throaty laugh resonated so deeply within Tolbert that Katherine could feel him remove the pressure from her throat for an instant, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked at the lone man who opposed him now. "You? An old man who could not even run the distance of the corridor before he was out of breath? Your years behind the monastery walls have left you soft and weak, Aramis. The musketeer you once were is nothing more than a shadow."
> 
> "Perhaps," he conceded, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he readjusted the hold that he currently held on the hilt of his blade. "But when you threaten those I love, there is not a force on the face of the earth that can stop me…because above all else, I am a father first."
> 
> "And now you bore me, old man."
> 
> With the speed that only a young man could possess, Tolbert removed the dagger from Katherine's throat and twirled it around in his fingers until he held the tip of the blade between his fingers. He lifted his arm, pulling his hand back behind his head and with a flick of his wrist sent the dagger flying across the room, where it stopped only once it had embedded itself into Aramis' right shoulder. The sudden onset of pain was enough to shock the older man into dropping his sword to the floor with a terrible clatter, dropping to one knee in an effort to maintain some sort of physical control over his body. His sword arm was now wounded before any real battle had begun, he thought through grit teeth. His greatest weapon in trying to save Katherine had now been taken away.
> 
> As his left hand came across his body to gingerly hold the aching shoulder, Tolbert released his hold on Katherine and allowed her to fall to the floor rather ungracefully when her legs finally gave out beneath her. She lay upon her stomach, face down against the dust and struggling even to lift her head as Tolbert walked calmly toward Aramis, his own hand moving now to draw the sword that sat on his hip. Each footstep echoed against the hard flooring beneath him as he moved, looking down upon his opponent with a grin already telling of the victory that played out in his mind.
> 
> "It is such a pity that you have to die like this," he said, allowing the very tip of his sword to scrape along the floor until the room rang with the droning metallic sound. "You were quite brilliant in your day."
> 
> Drawing up his right foot, Tolbert turned his body enough so that he could squarely plant his foot against the chest of his opponent, kicking with such force that he sent Aramis flying a few feet further. With the wind now knocked out of him, he coughed and tried to regain his senses as he lay against the ground, blinking rapidly in the hopes of clearing his vision. But Tolbert was upon him before he knew it, staring down with the same menacing grin that Aramis had so wished to remove from his traitorous lips. He felt it before he saw it, the cool metal of his sword against the bare flesh of his throat, caressing his cheek and chin in its dangerous hold.
> 
> "Try not to take it too hard," the voice continued to taunt as the edge of the blade danced about his skin. "We all meet our end eventually, though I'm afraid that you shall endure quite a lot of pain before that comes."
> 
> Suddenly the sword was removed from his skin, moving instead to nudge at the dagger that protruded from his shoulder until Aramis was forced to groan through grit teeth in protest. "Unless of course, you are prepared to beg."
> 
> "Perhaps you should be thinking about that yourself."
> 
> Turning casually to look over his shoulder, Tolbert chuckled darkly once more. It was pathetic really, to see the girl standing upright in such a feeble position, unable to lift the sword that she had managed to place in her hands. A quick glance to the side assured him that it had come from one of the displays left hanging on the wall, though he was not yet certain of how she had gotten ahold of it without his hearing her. Perhaps he had been focusing too much on the old man after all.
> 
> Her feet were too far apart and her knees bent inward to keep herself upright, arms hanging heavily in front of her as her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword that was clearly too large for someone of her stature to properly use. Once before he had seen her fight, that night in the Bastille when it had been her duty to keep anyone from reaching the unarmed Philippe. But she had been healthy at that point, save for the small line of red that had decorated her white shirt. Now she would fortunate to stay on her feet without falling over again, which made the sight of her holding a weapon laughable to a man like Tolbert who had managed to take down a former musketeer with little effort.
> 
> Tolbert allowed himself to fully turn in her direction, one hand resting upon his hip while the other held loosely to his sword. "Come now, child, there is no need to be foolish. You and I both know that even if you were able to get that thing into your hands, you have no strength left. You could not lift that sword even if you were in the peak of health."
> 
> "Try me."
> 
> The spark of defiance that had earned her so much trouble as a child was once again blazing in the depths of her eyes, strands of her hair now loose and dangling against the sides of her face to give off a more dangerous air than she might have otherwise had in her present condition. Tolbert was no fool…he could see it clearly from across the room.
> 
> "You  _will_  die," he warned her, taking a few slow steps toward her.
> 
> Katherine smiled. "Then I guess you have nothing to worry about."
> 
> Challenging words had been thrown around, and now the time had come for action. With Aramis already wounded and unable to fight, Tolbert knew that dealing with Katherine would be far easier than he had anticipated. Louis had given him orders not to kill the girl, insinuating that she might perhaps be of use to them later on when they approached the people of France with the next stage of his plan. He knew that there were bound to be repercussions because he had disobeyed a direct order, but he cared little for them right now. This girl had been nothing but trouble since she had come waltzing into the picture and upset every step of their plan, throwing herself into the middle of things and interfering with fate. She alone was responsible for ensuring that D'Artagnan survived from his otherwise fatal wound that night at the Bastille, and that single act had caused them nothing but difficulty from that moment on.
> 
> Oh yes, despite the orders he had previously been given, Tolbert was very much going to enjoy watching her die.
> 
> The muscles in his arm tensed as he raised his sword above his head, aiming to bring it straight down on Katherine's head when he felt the resistance of another blade fling his attack to the side where it landed uselessly against the floor. He paused for only a moment, allowing the surprise to settle into his features before he turned back to look at his prey, enraged by the smirk that he saw dancing upon her lips. Perhaps she had deflected his blow once, but there was no way she could do it again.
> 
> Shifting his weight, he moved to swipe at the air that lay between where his sword had fallen and the bruised skin of her neck, knowing that contact from his blade would likely decapitate her when the blow fell. But again he found that he missed his target entirely as Katherine pulled her sword back across her body to block his attack and sharply lifted her elbow so that it made contact with his jaw. Stumbling backwards in shock, Tolbert allowed himself a moment to touch the offended area of his face with his free hand, rubbing it gingerly to ensure that no blood had been drawn. But there was blood, which spilled from the place where his teeth had cut into his lower lip and now ran freely down into the curve of his chin.
> 
> "Clever girl," he grumbled, flicking some of the blood away from his hand. "But not clever enough."
> 
> There was no holding back now. In his effort to demonstrate his superiority over her much more fragile form, Tolbert unleashed a storm of blows that would not hold back his strength or skill from her, battling Katherine backward across the room. Despite his earlier analysis, she repeatedly blocked his advances, shucking them away as if they were nothing more than a few practise swings one would take in training. He came at her with everything that he had, knowing that she was using the full extent of her energies to just keep herself alive, never mind attempting any strike of her own that might gain her the upper hand.
> 
> Tolbert roared as he lifted his sword above his head, both hands coming together on the hilt as he prepared to deliver the blow that he believed would end the entire meeting. Her eyes immediately widened as she took in his stance, dropping her arms and throwing her body forward so that she could skirt just beneath his elbow and roll against the floor. Unable to redirect his aim, Tolbert's sword came heavily into the fireplace mantle he had succeeded in backing Katherine against, only to embed itself deeply into the wood and stubbornly lodge itself there.
> 
> Seeing an opening, Katherine forced herself back to her feet again and ran for the opposite end of the room, her blue eyes locked on the motionless form that lay ahead of her. Over and over again her mind was praying for him, begging that he still be alive when she reached him. It might perhaps have been only a dagger to the shoulder and a strong kick to the chest, but at his age she knew that his body was no longer accustomed to such abuses. There was no telling what kind of damage might have actually been done to his body.
> 
> "Papa!"
> 
> Her cry stirred Aramis, who lifted his head just enough for her to see that he was still battling to remain conscious as his body took in the shock of his attack. When it fell again, fear clenched at Katherine's heart. No, she thought. No, she would not lose him like this. She couldn't…she still needed him…
> 
> But as she neared him, the heavy footsteps from behind alerted her that Tolbert had freed his sword from the mantle and approached with a speed that she knew she could not match. In a desperate attempt to remain alive, she spun on her heel and lifted her sword in both hands, just in time to meet the blow that he placed squarely against the blade. This time though, he did not pull away, but continued to press down against her until Katherine was forced to place most of her weight against one knee, struggling to stay in control. Her arms burned in agony at having to maintain a grip on her sword for so long, her core muscles begging to be released. She would not last much longer under this pressure, and Tolbert knew it well.
> 
> "You see?" he demanded, the grin having returned to his face. "You never stood a chance, my dear."
> 
> Lifting a knee, Tolbert slipped beneath the defence that she had created with her weapon and made contact with her hands, which immediately released the sword and allowed it to go flying across the room to a place she could not hope to reach. Katherine fell backward, trying to push herself away from his looming presence with whatever strength remained in her legs. But Tolbert followed her, flexing his fingers until both hands were able to grip tightly to his sword.
> 
> He slowly raised it above his head, prepared to strike the final blow. "Say goodbye, Katherine."
> 
> But the blow never came.
> 
> Tolbert's eyes went wide as his body froze, staring first at Katherine as his intended target, and then slowly lowering to his abdomen where the hilt of a dagger now protruded. Panting heavily, Katherine's head turned round to see Aramis propped up against one elbow, sweat dripping steadily down his pale face. The dagger was now absent from his shoulder.
> 
> "I believe that is yours."
> 
> Before she could change her mind, the girl swiftly turned back to Tolbert and took advantage of his momentary daze, letting out a cry as she kicked one foot upward and into the dagger, sending it even further into the stomach of her would-be killer. The sword instantly fell from his hands, clattering loudly behind him as Tolbert fell to his knees before her, a momentary fire filling his eyes. His hands moved as if to grab her by the throat, but this time she proved to be too quick for him. Another sharp kick to his abdomen knocked the dagger further into his body, and one hand was smooth enough to give it a twist before she withdrew it entirely from his body.
> 
> And as the blood flowed freely from his wound, covering the front of his clothing and creating the beginnings of a puddle on the floor, the light in his eyes drew dim. Every tight muscle released itself, eyes rolling back into his head…and he fell face down upon the floor and Katherine pulled herself away to avoid any form of contact with him. She waited only a moment to ensure that he would not move before she pushed herself further back on the floor, turning with a painful cry until she was able to crawl her way back to where Aramis lay on the floor, sliding her body beneath him for when his arm finally gave out on him and he fell back once more.
> 
> The dagger fell against the floor beside him, no longer an object of concern for Katherine as she pressed a hand tightly to the wound that her father had sustained in his shoulder, ignoring the hiss of pain that accompanied the pressure.
> 
> "Oh, Papa, I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears beginning to fill her eyes. "This is all my fault, forgive me."
> 
> Aramis shook his head, blinking up at his daughter with the softest of smiles. "No, my darling. It is I who should be asking you for forgiveness, for I kept a truth from you that might have prevented all of this from happening to you."
> 
> "But you have been hurt," Katherine insisted. "And now Louis has Philippe…all because of me."
> 
> "I would gladly die a thousand deaths if it meant I could keep you safe, Kate."
> 
> The girl shook her head quickly, wrapping one arm around her father's neck as she leaned down to kiss his damn forehead, hugging him as close as she dared without harming him. "The one that shall eventually come will be painful enough to endure, Papa. Please do not will it to come any sooner than it must."
> 
> Closing his eyes, Aramis allowed a slow exhale of breath to begin calming his body as he silently rejoiced in the gentle touch that his daughter held him in. A small tilt of his head had his cheek pressed to her upper arm, one hand moving until he was able to find one of her own and softly graze the skin with his thumb. He had not failed her after all…thank God…
> 
> "Come," she whispered, her body beginning to shift beneath him. "We must get you to safety."
> 
> "No."
> 
> Mentally preparing himself, Aramis began to push his body into a seated position, working to ignore the pain that he could still feel moving through his body from the assault that Tolbert had delivered. Katherine's arms instantly slid off of him and prepared to help, providing a little more stability as he touched his wounded shoulder and surveyed what was around them. Very soon the battle that was outside would make its way indoors, and they could not be found seated where they were.
> 
> "We must find the others," ordered the priest, wincing heavily against the throbbing in his arm. "If Louis has Philippe as you say, then we cannot retreat until he is safe."
> 
> Katherine moved to kneel beside him, ripping at the fabric of her skirt until she groaned in frustration and snatched up the dagger still coated in blood to make the initial cut. "A fine pair we make," she muttered, ripping along the bottom edge of the skirt until she had enough material that she could wrap it numerous times around her father's injury. "Going off to save someone else even though we can barely stand up."
> 
> Aramis looked at his daughter, the corner of his lips perking up into a ghost of a smile. "I have always been rather stubborn when it comes to my duties."
> 
> As she finished tying the knot, Kate looked up and caught his gaze. "And I  _am_  my father's daughter."
> 
> The smile grew a little more as the two of them struggled to their feet, each leaning on the other for support as they eyed the corridor that had previously been blocked to them. Neither knew where exactly they needed to be, or how they were going to get out of this battle alive. All they knew was that Philippe was somewhere up those steps, with D'Artagnan and Athos searching for him. His lack of appearance lead Kate to believe that her Uncle Porthos was out in the battle that had yet to reach them, a thought that further strengthened her resolve to climb those damn steps, no matter how much it would hurt her to do so.
> 
> "Alright then," Aramis declared, leaning forward to pick up the sword that had been knocked from his hand with renewed fire. "Time to save the King."
> 
> Flexing her fingers around the handle of the dagger, Katherine nodded beside him. "Here we go."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for reading through to the end of this story! Though this is the final chapter, I will likely be writing some more with these characters in the future for you all to read as well! I have at least a oneshot ready to be posted because my muse for Katherine kept bugging me, so I'll make sure to post that shortly. Again, thank you for reading.

> "This way, hurry!"
> 
> There had been no time for them to argue, but neither D'Artagnan nor Athos was thrilled at the prospect of leaving Aramis alone to deal with Tolbert and save Katherine. Were Porthos still with them, one of their number would have stayed and put the odds in their favour…but Louis still had Philippe, and he had to have priority over anyone and anything else no matter how much it hurt them to walk away.
> 
> Granted, there had been no window to argue with Aramis about his decision either.
> 
> Both were aware of the battle that continued to rage outside as they heard the roars of men and the violent clash of swords, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the fight was brought indoors and those who fought for Louis were subdued. The chateau was no longer the impregnable fortress that the young man had sought in order to accomplish his plans now that the musketeers had laid siege to it, and that put them in a rather dangerous position. Unless Louis had an escape plan that they had not yet considered, he risked being caught in a corner with no place to run. This new reality would only increase the danger Philippe was in, for if his plans failed entirely, neither man doubted that Philippe would not be left alive.
> 
> Deeper and deeper into the chateau they went, searching each corridor as they passed in their efforts to figure out where it was that Louis had taken Philippe. The telling of Katherine's eyes had indicated that they needed to proceed upward if they were to find their prey, but thus far they had not managed to locate the staircase that would surely take them to the upper floors and thus closer to Louis.
> 
> Athos growled in frustration as they looked down yet another passage, finding it to be as deserted as the previous ones. "We have no time for this!"
> 
> Though he said nothing in response, D'Artagnan found himself agreeing with the sentiments expressed by his friend in his moment of anger. No amount of careful planning could have prepared for them for the events that had occurred since that night at the Bastille. And even if they had been fortunate enough to devise a clever plan in which to save Katherine's life from the hands of one who sought to use her against them, there was nothing that could be done once they discovered that Philippe had slipped through their defenses and dashed off to surrender himself to his vindictive twin. All he had wanted to do was save Katherine, to see her life spared because the boy had fallen hopelessly in love with the girl. And now it was his own life that hung in the balance.
> 
> "There has to be something," D'Artagnan argued, his own brow furrowing in frustration.
> 
> And there was; a rather unfortunate something. As the pair finally came to the end of the corridor they discovered that they found far more than the staircase they required – there were two. Each staircase lead off in a separate direction of the chateau with no guarantee that it would bring them closer to their ultimate goal. For a moment the pair were stunned, knowing that luck had not yet chosen to operate in their favour as they looked back and forth between the two sets of steps. They would have to split up, there was no choice.
> 
> They exchanged no words when they looked back at one another and nodded in unison, allowing the blades of their swords to clang loudly together before they split off and each sped for the stairwell that was closest to them. The dangers grew with every passing minute, especially now that they had dropped in number and had to venture onward without another soul who might provide them aid. If ever there was a time when they felt the cold prickle of fear begin to move its way up their spines, it was certainly now.
> 
> Off to the right did Athos vanish, leaving D'Artagnan to make his way up the left staircase and into the belly of the unknown without a friend by his side. Already his nerves were jumping wildly within his stomach as he mounted the steps one at a time, careful to keep his movements light in case he should warn anyone above him of his arrival. But time was of the essence at this point. And so the struggle between rushing and maintaining an element of surprise continued in his mind as he moved up the staircase and into the unknown. All he could do now was pray that Louis had not yet harmed Philippe, giving him the time that he needed in order to find both of his sons and keep them from harm.
> 
> At the top of the steps there was a corridor, leading him off to one part of the chateau and away from the sounds of the battle that still continued below. Through the open window he could hear the roar of men, though his senses paid little attention to it as he journeyed forward. He was consumed with his need to find the boys, to stop anything from happening that he could not reverse. If Louis were to kill Philippe there was nothing that D'Artagnan could then do to spare his friends or the people of France from the tyrannous reign that Louis would once again inflict upon the nation. Nor did he think he could ever face Katherine again, knowing that her feelings for the boy had grown into the very same one that he had secretly felt for years about Anne. Though if they failed in their mission, none of them would likely be around to mourn the loss for long. Louis would see to that.
> 
> All at once there was a blur before his eyes and D'Artagnan found himself face to face with two armed men who pointed pistols in his direction, the tiny streams of smoke telling him that they had been lit in preparation to fire. With his sword in hand the musketeer crouched and prepared to be fired upon, knowing that there was absolutely nowhere for him to disappear within the corridor. He was trapped, and all he could do now was hope that the men who held onto those pistols were lousy shots.
> 
> "Well, look who we have here," sneered the first man as he took a slow step toward D'Artagnan. "You just saved us the trouble of having to come and find you."
> 
> The second man nodded in agreement. "Yeah! The King wants a word with you."
> 
> Terror slowly began to filter into D'Artagnan as he stood in the open corridor, completely unprotected from the blow that the words had dealt him. They weren't talking about Philippe, he wasn't so foolish as to believe that. But the very thought of suddenly being confronted with a summons from the very man he was searching for was something that he was entirely unprepared to deal with. Yet there was an opportunity here, staring him straight in the face and daring him to take it before it slipped away. Perhaps this was the very chance that he needed to find Philippe.
> 
> "He does, does he?"
> 
> Warily, D'Artagnan looked between the pair and the pistols still trained on his body. No, there was no way he could take out the one and force the other to take him to Louis. The chances of being shot to death were too great even for the captain of the musketeers to avoid. And with no available rooms into which he could escape from any shots that were fired, he knew he had but one choice. Very slowly, D'Artagnan turned his wrist and allowed himself to gently lower his sword until it was out of his hands completely. There was nothing else to do but surrender for the time being.
> 
> Clearly pleased with themselves for subduing the captain of the musketeers with such ease, the two men grinned to themselves and motioned for D'Artagnan to step forward until they were able to press the muzzles of their guns against his back and force him forward through the corridor. Not a word was spoken as they lead him forward and through a few of the little corridors that strayed from the main one, but his eyes were forever glancing about him in an effort to find something that might prove useful to him later, especially now that he had been relieved of his weapon. And when the time came for him to make his escape with Philippe he would need to know the way out of that hellish place and back to safety once more. It was all he could do at the moment.
> 
> All too soon he was pushed roughly through an open door and into a smaller room, stumbling slightly at the sharp impact against his shoulder that send a dark hiss through his lips as contact was made with his still healing wound. But the instant D'Artagnan lifted his head his eyes widened and any anger felt toward his captors was forgotten – for before him stood Louis, dressed once more in the fine cloth that he had previously worn as France's monarch.
> 
> And in his hand was the dagger that he tightly pressed against the flesh of Philippe's throat.
> 
> "Go, locate the others," Louis ordered the men who stood behind D'Artagnan with his vicious sneer. "I have something I wish to discuss with my  _Captain._ "
> 
> Only in the back of his mind did he hear the retreating footsteps of the men who had taken him in the halls as they moved to do their master's bidding, for D'Artagnan was far too stunned at seeing the malicious way in which Louis threatened his brother to respond. Blinking a few times, the older man slowly lifted his hands to show that he was no threat and took a cautious step further into the room. But a twitch in Louis' hand brought him to a grinding halt when he realized that the closer he got, the closer the dagger would come to cutting through the flesh of Philippe's throat.
> 
> "Louis, listen to me-"
> 
> "Oh no, D'Artagnan," laughed the young man as his eyes narrowed dangerously. "This time you will not interrupt me. You will do exactly as you are told or you will be responsible for the death of this imposter."
> 
> The look of terror that overtook D'Artagnan's face brought forth a dark laugh that rung throughout the room, bouncing along the hard stone walls until it overtook every other sound that fought to be heard from the battle still raging below them. It was perhaps the coldest thing that the captain had ever heard in his life, for even as he stood there he fought off the chill that otherwise threatened to run its course up his spine.
> 
> "You really think it's that simple?" Louis demanded, almost laughing at the expression the older man wore. "That you can walk in here, demand to have this traitor released and then go back to the lies that you created so that he could sit in my place? You really think I will not see you executed for treason?"
> 
> D'Artagnan could say nothing. There was no concern for his own life – he had given that up to his King and country the day that he had first put on the tunic of a musketeer and sworn his oath before a crowd of his brethren. No, it was not his life that he currently feared for, but the life of the son who now stood silently opposite him with his arms hanging limply by his sides and a dagger dangerously pressed against his throat. But wait…his arms were free from bonds, so why did he stand so motionless? Why was he not fighting back against the cold metal that threatened to bite into his skin at any moment and bring a swift end to his life?
> 
> Unfazed by the silence he received, Louis continued. "You might perhaps have succeeded in locking me away forever you know, had you not gotten sloppy and left one of your own men in the Bastille with me."
> 
> For a moment D'Artagnan stood there, a puzzled expression overtaking his features as he tried to understand what was being spoken. To his knowledge there had been no man left with Louis after the switch had taken place, nor would the order have come from him as he was barely able to breathe by the end of the night. But then it dawned on him. There had indeed been a musketeer left in the Bastille, for Louis had ordered the man to remain in the cell with Philippe himself to ensure that he did not escape from his prison a second time….
> 
> "Tolbert."
> 
> The sneer only widened on Louis' face. "Yes, Tolbert," he snapped. "When his brother failed to return from the Bastille with the others that night he went looking for him, finding him where you had left him. And when he was released he told Tolbert everything."
> 
> "It was Tolbert who helped you escape," D'Artagnan murmured.
> 
> "He hid me away, keeping me safe while he acted as my spy and learned all of the things that were going on in the palace," pressed the younger man, the rage slowly beginning to sink into his words like venom. "Imagine my surprise when I heard that there was a girl walking around the corridors of my palace, taking care of an old man who should have had enough sense to die when I stabbed him in the back."
> 
> As the anger continued to build in his monologue D'Artagnan could see Philippe wince a little more at the pressure he felt against his throat from the tip of the dagger. It took all of his self-control not to leap forward and attempt to wrestle the weapon from Louis's grip and call for Philippe to flee to some place safe. But there was no way for the musketeer to guarantee his safety, not in their current position. The odds were certainly not in his favour at this moment in time, and there was nothing that D'Artagnan could think of doing that would not put Philippe in further danger. And the very idea of having to hurt Louis made his stomach churn.
> 
> But time was not on his side either, D'Artagnan realized as he searched every corner of his mind for a possible solution to the problem at hand. If he continued to wait like this and pray for some sort of miracle he knew that he was only further endangering both his life and that of Philippe. There was no telling what had happened to the rest of his friends when they had departed the group, no word that might tell him that Katherine was alright. All he had to rely on were his own skills and any assets he could find in that room.
> 
> "There is more to that girl than you realize, Louis."
> 
> At this, his snarl only deepened. "You think I do not know that? You think I do not know who she really is?"
> 
> "No," D'Artagnan said firmly. "You have no idea."
> 
> "UNCLE!"
> 
> The sound of Katherine's voice echoed through the room as she came rushing in through a secondary door he had not noticed before within the wall to his left side, a voice that was quickly followed by her presence as she hurried forward and came to a sharp halt just over the threshold. Aramis was quick on her heels, moving himself slowly so that he filled part of the gap that lay between his daughter and his friend without getting too close to Louis. A glance in their direction told D'Artagnan that neither one was in good shape anymore, for he could see the bloody proof of their battle upon their skin and clothing. But when Aramis caught his eye, he gave a short nod in response.
> 
> Tolbert had been dealt with.
> 
> "Philippe!"
> 
> "Katherine!"
> 
> The captive prince made as if to move toward her, a look of relief flooding his face until he felt the hard press of the dagger against his skin again and was forced to stop his movements. But his eyes were on her the entire time as she stood there, frantically looking between the men in the room with her so that she might better understand what had happened in her absence. There was no time to speak, however. As soon as he had stilled Philippe from his attempting approach he pulled the two of them slightly backwards once more to put more of a distance between himself and his enemies.
> 
> "Well, well," he said, attempting to regain his regal air. "It seems our darling sister decided to rejoin us after all, Philippe."
> 
> "What is he talking about?" she demanded, eyes shifting from Louis to her father and uncle.
> 
> "Katherine-"
> 
> "Have they not told you?" Louis interrupted, feigning surprise as the wicked grin again touched his face. "Have they not told you that you are nothing more than a bastard child? How your mother somehow worked her way into the bed of my father and fell pregnant with you?"
> 
> Katherine stared at him, shaking her head slowly. "You lie."
> 
> "Do I?" he hissed. "Do I truly?"
> 
> For a moment she continued to stare at Louis, her chest heaving slightly with each short intake of air that seemed only to touch her lungs for a moment before it was expelled again. Desperate for an answer, her head snapped around to D'Artagnan and Aramis, eyes pleading with them for a straight answer that might finally lead to a truth she had wondered about all her life. It couldn't be true though, could it?
> 
> "Papa…Uncle…please…"
> 
> A heavy sigh fell from D'Artagnan's lips as he shook his dark head and allowed his gaze to meet Katherine's. "Your mother worked in the palace. That is true. But she was a pawn used by the old cardinal to discredit your father in the eyes of his people…and you were the result of that use."
> 
> "The old King was your father, Katherine," Aramis finished, sensing that those were not the words that she had anticipated to hear. "No other man but him."
> 
> So it was not D'Artagnan, she thought. And that meant that Louis still had no idea of his true paternity, which explained why it was that he had been referring to her as his sister since the moment he had had her kidnapped. Which only made him more dangerous if ever he were to learn the truth. There was no telling what he might do in his fit of rage, nor did she wish to test him while he had Philippe in his grasp. And the Queen…if Louis were to somehow come out victorious at the end of all this Katherine shuddered to think of what he might do to his own mother for her past actions. But there was D'Artagnan as well. No way would he be spared from this if Louis had his way. He would want anyone who might speak the truth of his parentage dead so that they could not spread any rumour against his legitimacy and therefore his claim to the throne.
> 
> He'd kill them all.
> 
> In an effort not to panic, Katherine slowly pulled her eyes away from her family and back toward the captor who continued to stare at her with satisfaction, as if his news would be enough to strike some kind of fatal blow within her. Her mind whirled madly for some idea of what she could do, some way in which she could help Philippe before his brother lost patience and decided to slit his throat with the edge of the weapon still clenched tightly in his fist. There was but one idea that came to mind, and she knew that it might very well be the last thing that she ever did. She had no choice. She had to try.
> 
> "Let him go, Louis," she begged quietly.
> 
> "Never," he hissed back at her. "After everything he has done, he will pay for his treachery."
> 
> Katherine quickly shook her head, lowering her body to place the dagger that she had taken from her altercation with Tolbert on the floor so that she could raise both of her hands in surrender. And with cautious steps did she slowly inch herself forward, watching for the flinch in Louis's body that pulled both him and Philippe further back. She had to get his attention, and she had to do it now.
> 
> Aramis looked at her with questioning eyes. "Kate-"
> 
> "It was never him," she insisted, inching forward just a little. "We forced him into it, bullied him until he knew that he had no choice. All he ever wanted was to live a quiet life in the country with a farm girl to keep him happy for the rest of his life, tending to lambs and harvesting food."
> 
> It seemed that her words were slowly luring his thoughts away from his currently position as she continued to paint the picture for him, watching his grip on the dagger loosen just enough to bring the pressure away from Philippe's throat. Another inch she dared to move, careful not to let her gaze wander away lest she break the connection that had formed between them. She had only one shot at making this word, and a single misstep would be all it took to ruin her entire plan. If she didn't get Philippe out of this alive she would never be able to forgive herself.
> 
> "Katherine!"
> 
> She ignored D'Artagnan's call. "Have you already forgotten who it was that threatened you that night at the Bastille?" she asked him mockingly, a smile touching at the corners of her lips. "Or who it was that kept your men from getting to Philippe as you ordered? I killed one of them, remember? I mocked you from the other end of the corridor because I proved to you that you could not defeat me…a mere woman."
> 
> Now the fires were beginning to burn in his eyes and she knew that she had him cornered.
> 
> "Be honest now, Louis, who is it you really want dead? Some silly brother who only looks like you, or the one person who made sure that you went away like the dog you are?"
> 
> The muscles in his jaw began to clench, teeth grinding as he struggled not to fall for the bait that she laid out for him. His ego was already damaged, and each spoken word was another sword that she drove through it in an effort to see the entire thing destroyed. It was almost too easy, she thought to herself, and that made it a lot more dangerous and unpredictable than she might have liked. But there was no turning back now. She had gone too far.
> 
> She widened her grin a little as the distance between them closed. "Come on," she taunted softly. "You want your revenge? Here I am. Prove that you actually have the stomach to do your own dirty work."
> 
> He glared down at her, watching as she straightened her body and threw her arms out to the sides in an open invitation for where he should place the dagger in his hand. "Do it. Kill me."
> 
> "Katherine, no!"
> 
> "What are you doing?!"
> 
> "KILL ME!"
> 
> With a roar that threatened to shake the entire chateau Louis flung Philippe aside and raised the dagger above his head, aiming to bring it straight down into Katherine's heart. All at once it seemed as if time were slowing down around them and moving at almost half the speed as normal. Her ears could hear the war cry that Louis gave, as well as the shouts that came from the three other people who stood in the room with her as each one called out to try and stop Louis from striking. But he would not be deterred and Katherine could see the blade coming with more force than she thought lived in her enemy's entire body. So when she reached upward to stop him she grabbed his wrist in both of her hands and pushed upward with all her might.
> 
> She could hear the others scrambling to reach her in time, but none of them were able to snatch her out of the way as she struggled back and forth with Louis, holding tightly to him as the point of his dagger slowly rose and fell mere inches from her face. And just when it looked like she might be able to push him away and escape his grasp, Louis lifted his knee sharply and caught her in the stomach. The shock and hurt of the unexpected impact was all it took for her grip to fall away from his arm and give him the opportunity he needed to get ahold of her for good. His free hand found her head and instantly grabbed a fistful of her dark locks while the other hand brought the dagger to her throat, preparing to finish the job he had started.
> 
> A glance to the side betrayed their location against the wall, dangerously close to the single window within the room. Time had finally run out. This was going to be her last stand.
> 
> For a split second she allowed her blue eyes to turn to Philippe and connect with him before Katherine summoned the remainder of her strength for her final assault. Slamming a heel down upon his toes Louis howled in pain and pulled himself backward until his back came into contact with the ledge of the window. And when Katherine threw her elbow backward to mimic the same pain that he had previously inflicted on her, his body retracted even further. But this time he moved too far and Louis could no longer retain his balance. With Katherine still in his grasp he tumbled out the open window with one final cry and disappeared from sight.
> 
> "NOOOOOOO!"
> 
> Philippe pushed forward until he was at the other end of the room and gripping tightly to the edge of the window, looking down to where the pair had fallen. Tears already began to stain his cheeks as he leaned forward, praying to God that there would be some miracle waiting for him to see that would not include the mangled remains of his twin and the woman he loved laying together in the dust. The very idea of losing Katherine now was enough to shatter his heart beyond repair.
> 
> "Katherine!"
> 
> Now joined at the window by D'Artagnan and Aramis, Philippe looked around madly at the ground beneath him. His heart felt heavy within his chest, his throat closing as he struggled to breathe properly and slid down against the window sill until he came to rest on the cold floor once more. And there, he let out the most heart wrenching cry that D'Artagnan had ever heard in his life. Too stunned to do anything else, the captain of the musketeers leaned heavily against the wall and stared down at the ground beneath his feet. For the first time in years he could feel the prick of tears in his eyes as his stomach plummeted and his body began to tremble. He had lost them, both Louis and Katherine, all in one blow. The son who had never known him and the daughter he had loved dearer than anything….gone….
> 
> "Aramis! D'Artagnan!"
> 
> The voice meant very little to either Philippe or D'Artagnan, but from his place at the window Aramis instantly caught sight of the person who waved at him from the window a few stories below and straighted his back, suddenly able to focus on everything in the world once more.
> 
> "Oh my God!"
> 
> Without another word he bolted from the room with a speed that D'Artagnan had not known him to possess in a great many years. Instantly concerned for what Aramis might do in his grief over losing his child, D'Artagnan felt himself connect with the wold again and moved to pursue him, calling to him as he ran out of the room and down the corridor to a set of stairs he had not seen before. Twice more he called him as he chased his friend through the bowels of the chateau, hoping he might still have the strength to catch up to him and prevent any further lives from being lost. He couldn't be so foolish, D'Artagnan thought to himself. Katherine would never forgive Aramis for doing something like that….he was a priest…he knew the laws of the church better than anyone else!
> 
> But as D'Artagnan rounded the corner into a room that lay several stories beneath the other, the sight inside caused the older man to stop sharply in the doorway and stare. For there, newly wrapped in her father's tight embrace, was Katherine.
> 
> In that instant she lifted her gaze and saw him standing there, her own tears falling just as freely as the ones that now decorated his cheeks. Another moment more she spent in her father's arms before he released her enough that she might step toward D'Artagnan, but he wasted no time in crossing the room and bringing her close to his chest so that he might know how real she truly was. Not an apparition or any dream he might have prayed for…but a real human being, flesh and blood that he could wrap his arms around and feel with the tips of his fingers. Lifting one quivering hand he placed it against the soft strands of her hair, sighing heavily with relief.
> 
> "You're alive."
> 
> "Uncle Porthos," she choked, struggling to fight back the fear that was obviously still within in her from the experience. "He heard the commotion upstairs and stuck his head out the window to try and figure out where we were. He….he caught me…"
> 
> His arms tightened a little around her, understanding the double meaning that her words contained. While Porthos had been fortunate enough to be there when the two of them fell from the window, there had been only one who had been pulled to safety. Louis had not survived.
> 
> "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, a fresh wave of tears causing her voice to crack. "I'm so sorry, Uncle. I only wanted him to let Philippe go, I never meant-"
> 
> It hurt. Oh God, did it hurt. Though Katherine and Philippe had both been spared there was a part of his heart that would forever remain dead with his second son, the boy who had never known him to be anything more than the leader of the guards designed to protect him. As a captain and a father he had failed in this most sacred duty. His son was gone. The body beneath the window could only belong to Louis. And all he could do for the moment was hold tightly to Katherine as he struggled to tell his heart and soul that he hadn't lost everything today. Though he could feel the heavy pull of the rainclouds above his head there would again come a time when the sunshine would be bearable. Perhaps not now, but someday.
> 
> To soothe them both, D'Artagnan gently stroked her hair with his hand as he felt her bury her face against his chest. "I think it would have killed me more to have lost you," he whispered.
> 
> Pulling back from him just enough to look up into his face, Katherine brushed away her tears and tried to regain her composure despite the shaking he could still feel throughout her body. "Philippe? Is he-"
> 
> "He's right here, Kate."
> 
> It was Athos who spoke from the doorway and turned all of their heads, standing behind the boy who continued to stare at Katherine with a mixture of shock and something else she could not immediately name. He seemed to be trembling just as badly as she was, his eyes red from the tears he had already shed in thinking that she might have been lost to him forever. For but a moment were they motionless and staring at one another in uncertainty. But the instant that he moved toward her, so too did she move toward him until he had wrapped her in an embrace to rival the ones she had already exited.
> 
> His chest heaved as he held her tightly. "You're alive."
> 
> "Yes," she breathed.
> 
> "Why did you do it, Kate?" he asked her, a few more tears falling from his eyes as he pressed his face against her hair and breathed in her scent. "He could have killed you. He could have taken you away from me forever."
> 
> The brunette shook her head. "I could not let him hurt you," she whispered, lifting her head away from his chest so that she might gaze into the brilliant blue of his eyes. "I love you, Philippe."
> 
> The words were barely out of her mouth when suddenly Philippe pressed his lips to her own, cradling the back of her head with one of his hands as the other drew her waist closer to him. In response, Kate wound her arms around his neck and drew herself as close as she could muster, her mind having completely forgotten that there were other people in the room. All that mattered was that she had finally shared the deepest secret of her heart with the boy who made it beat so quickly, the boy she had been prepared to die for in order to protect.
> 
> At last, something was right.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Five days later they were all assembled together again on a hillside that overlooked the brilliant gardens of the palace as they said their final goodbye to Louis. Breaking the news to Anne had been something none of them wished to do, for they were all aware of the anguish it would cause her to truly lose one of her son's to an eternal sleep, but the Dowager Queen had handled the news quite well since their return. She had locked herself away in her chamber for a few days with only her most trusted maid to attend to her, but it was Katherine who went on the third day and gently knocked on the door so that she might attempt to help the healing process along. After that she had spent a great deal of time with D'Artagnan so that they might mourn the loss together as parents.
> 
> Now they stood together at the foot of his grave, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as she clenched a single red rose to her chest.
> 
> The final words of the parting prayer faded from Aramis' lips as he crossed himself and bowed his head for a moment of silence, closing his book to show that their private service had come to a close. There were but eight people in attendance, all of whom knew the details of what had transpired and lead to the death of the elder brother. D'Artagnan stood with Anne, who was in turn flanked by Andre and Porthos who had taken up positions of guards to ensure her safety. Aramis slowly moved from the head of the grave to where Athos stood, his expression almost unreadable as he battled his own conflicted feelings. And off to the D'Artagnan's other side were Philippe and Katherine, who stood with their fingers entwined as they sought to bring silent comfort to one another.
> 
> "Louis was always a tormented soul," Anne murmured.
> 
> "May he now find peace," responded Katherine.
> 
> With a gentle nudge from his arm D'Artagnan began to lead Anne back to the palace, Andre and Porthos following a respectful distance behind. Athos moved next to join the procession and reached out to gently touch Philippe on the shoulder as he passed. With a kiss pressed firmly to the back of her hand Philippe released Katherine's fingers and moved to walk with Athos, which left the girl to linger at the end with her father. Teeth pressed lightly to her bottom lip and eyes dropped downward as he approached her, coming to a stop with just enough distance for him to lift her head lightly in his hand until he was able to meet her eyes.
> 
> "What troubles you, my daughter?" he asked in his gruff tone.
> 
> She seemed to struggle for a moment, mouth opening and closing without a sound. "Everything," she said at last. "I brought about his death. I killed him."
> 
> In an instant Aramis had wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her tightly against his chest, resting a cheek atop her head. They had not spoken of that day since leaving the chateau behind, but the old priest had known that it was only a matter of time before the emotional pressures became too much and the guilt would overwhelm her. How could it not? When they had both toppled out the window Aramis had been sure that he would never see Katherine alive again, and yet her life had been spared. How could she not think she was responsible?
> 
> "I knew the window was close," she continued, burying her face against the soft velvet of his tunic. "I knew there was a risk that we would go over the edge. But I couldn't let him kill Philippe, Papa, I just couldn't."
> 
> "Shhh," he said gently, rocking her back and forth a little as he had once done in her childhood. "Louis had led himself down a dark and dangerous path for many years now, Kate. It was going to catch up to him eventually. And his luck finally ran out."
> 
> "But I knew," the girl insisted.
> 
> Aramis quickly cut her off. "You knew that the life of someone you loved was in danger and you did something about it. Louis might have killed Philippe if you had not intervened. And then what? He nearly killed you as well…and after that none of us would have been safe. You  _saved us_ , Katherine."
> 
> When she did not respond again, Aramis took it as a sign of acceptance and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The truth was not always the easiest thing to bear, but he knew that given time she would come to understand what her actions had truly done for them all. Just a moment more he held her in his arms before he slowly pulled away and allowed himself to follow the others back to the palace, leaving Katherine to stand by the grave alone with her conscience. There was some comfort to be had, she supposed. If nothing else, she prayed that Louis would indeed find the peace that he had sorely been missing from his life.
> 
> "I  _am_  sorry," she whispered again.
> 
> And with that she turned and walked away.
> 
> It would not help her heal if she continued to dwell on the past. Now there was a future to look forward to, a future that held countless possibilities for her to explore. If she thought life had been interesting before, she had certainly been wrong. Now there was a whole new adventure ahead that was just waiting for her to find it…and this time the adventure would not be had alone. Of that she was quite certain.


End file.
